


Attack on Yo Mama

by sendosenpai



Category: Hunter X Hunter, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: #sponsored, (bad) humour, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Boys Kissing, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crossover, Dancing and Singing, Family, Fluff and Humor, Genocide, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Not the fic you need but the fic you deserve, Revenge, Uchiha Massacre, a lot of (mostly failed) courting, armin and kurapika are identical???, crack shipping, everyone is stupid, feels like a musical x pantomime??, kurapika has a very undesirable harem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sendosenpai/pseuds/sendosenpai
Summary: The worlds of Hunter x Hunter and Attack On Titan overlap in this exciting, fast-paced fanfiction. Kurapika is seeking someone from the Titan-verse - but who and for what purpose?Crack shipping, a lot of singing, much drama...good luck xox
Relationships: Kurapika x Armin, Kurapika x Jean
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	1. Finding you xx

Kurapika looked down at the map he held in front of him- he seemed to be on the right path. He’d just passed a large wall like he was supposed to. He’d seen a cult of people in cloaks gathered in front of the wall, that he’d keenly avoided, like he was supposed to as well. They’d been on their knees praying to the wall, chanting something in Latin. He’d never before encountered a religious group that worshipped walls - other cultures were so interesting!! If he wasn’t so busy with all this revenge business, he’d like to just travel the world, meet the locals, educate himself on life outside of the bubble he’d grown up in. Oh well, he could do all that after his revenge – he would probably need new hobbies anyway. Nowadays he spent most of his time planning his revenge, sketching pictures of what it would look like, writing short stories about it, and even knitting little woolly action figures he could act it out with.  
He skimmed over the instructions scrawled on the map.  
“When the wall is passed,  
Kudos you’ve followed the right way  
Now walk ahead,  
Find where the titans come out to play.”  
He glanced up at the hard-to-miss, huge, naked bodies strolling the streets.  
“Ah, perfect,” he said slipping the map back in his pocket.  
-  
The map had another little note added to it,  
“When the titans are found,  
Heed what I say  
Follow the abs that are sexy  
From the others, stay away.”  
It was not difficult to find the aforementioned titan. While the rest were flabby and unimpressive, there was ONE titan with a well-defined eight-pack that put even shirtless Noah Centineo to shame. As he rampaged through the city, knocking down towers and stamping on houses, a group of hyperventilating fangirls tailed him on their vertical manoeuvring equipment.  
“SENPAI NOTICE ME,” one cried, as another threw a bra and polaroids of feet pics at him. As he batted them away, he knocked down a number of buildings, which only made the girls swoon even more.  
“MY OVARIES ARE BURSTING,” wailed one girl eating a potato, who then immediately got stepped on.  
“BACK OFF BITCHES,” shrieked one of the girls. She swung on her gear to try and stretched her arm out in attempt to touch his muscular bod. It was clear she had the power of 100 men, however only if the 100 men were weak like Leorio. “EREN IS MY BROTHER THEREFORE ONLY I AM WORTHY OF BEARING HIS SEED,” with that cry, she launched herself at him, managing to straddle his back and cling on as he tried to shake her off.  
“I don’t know why the other girls even try,” muttered a man in a military uniform who’d been watching. He shook his head, taking a swig from his hipflask. “only Mikasa has a chance with Sexy Titan Eren. She is his sister after all, it only makes sense.”  
Kurapika had been watching all of this with disgust. He could easily help out with his Nen abilities and destroy these titans, but he shouldn’t get involved in another village’s business. If he tried to solve all the world’s problems, it would take a lifetime. Watching this vomit-inducing scene right now unfold had just strengthened his resolve to let the titans do their thing.  
The army man walked over to Kurapika. “Call me Commander Erwin,” he extended a hand, “I can tell you’re not from around here based on your threads. But you look so much like someone I know… it’s uncanny.”  
Yes. Thought Kurapika to himself.  
“This other person – the one that looks like me – do you know where I can find him?” he pressed.  
“Armin? Let’s see…” he took another long drink from his hipflask. “I know his house was destroyed by Sexy Titan Eren so he now lives in a cardboard box on a street two lefts from this one.”  
“Thanks for your help,” Kurapika said, smiling at the man who now continued to drink from his flask, swaying slightly as he walked away – clearly drunk.  
-  
Kurapika looked at the wrecked street in front of him. Armin’s street. People were living inside cardboard boxes, whole families fitting inside one. The street was filthy, the boxes were dirty, and it smelled like sewage. With cruel irony, a magazine at his feet flipped open by the wind opening to a page with an ad for a cleaning service, ‘Levi’s Cleaning Service: you’ve heard of foreplay, we satisfy you with choreplay.’ The prices for these services were well beyond what anyone here could afford.  
The magazine flipped to another page, this time revealing an ad that said ‘WANT ABS LIKE SEXY TITAN EREN’S? WITH SOME PUSHUPS AND OUR BRAND-NEW, PROVEN-TO-WORK, VEGAN VITAMINS*, THAT COULD BE YOU! SPECIAL OFFER – BUY ONE PACK GET ONE HALF-PRICE (only til August)’ a picture of the titan was provided as reference underneath this heading.  
Kurapika walked past the many boxes, keeping an eye out for the one he searched for. Every now and then someone would shout out “Yo Armin, looking good!” or “What happened to you Armin bro? When did you get so sexy?” and finger gun him. It was easier to just wave back than explain that he was, in fact, not Armin at all which is how he was so sexy.  
Eventually he reached a cardboard box that was closed at the top with a hole poked through for air, and a large ‘armin’ scrawled on it in red crayon.  
Tentatively, he reached out and knocked on the box, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to say, how he was going to explain his past and how it tied into this boy’s, and of course his purposes for seeking him out today.  
“Just a moment,” called out a voice in a sing-song manner, “I haven’t had a chance to clean up in here, hope you don’t mind a little mess.”  
Kurapika heard the sound of tape being ripped off from inside – the equivalent of locking a door, he supposed – and watched a head emerge from inside.  
Armin.  
Kurapika smiled as he felt a warmth spread through him. At last. he thought to himself.  
Armin was staring at him, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.  
“But you’re – you – you look just like… me…” Armin gasped.  
This was, of course, not true. While they both shared the same features, Kurapika’s were… much better. The hair, eyes, and features that were nothing to write home about on Armin, were so defined and beautiful on Kurapika. Kurapika was like the airbrushed, photoshopped, Insta-model version of Armin.  
“My name is Kurapika. I was wondering if I could speak with you,” he said formally.  
At that moment a guy walking by wolf-whistled and called out, “Oh my Marco! Armin, you never said you had such a hot twin sister!” he finger-gunned Armin who finger-gunned back without correcting him.  
“Hey, baby, want to touch my abs?” he said to Kurapika now, strutting like a peacock.  
“Oh Jean, you dog! I see those vitamins are working” laughed Armin, as Kurapika snapped, “Get lost, you insect.”  
“Feisty chick,” remarked Jean sauntering off.  
“Careful, dude.” said Armin, “that’s a holy man, you can’t insult him.”  
“Holy man?” questioned Kurapika.  
“He’s the founder of Marco-ism. A belief system in which the great Marco died for our sins. He now lives within Jean, who passes on his words to his followers,” explained Armin, “you’re really not from around here are you?”  
“No, I’m from somewhere very far away. May I speak to you in private?” he eyed the box with distaste, but he supposed he didn’t have much choice.  
“Come in, come in,” said Armin, cheerfully. He tossed some stuff out of the box and crouched inside, waiting for Kurapika to join him.  
Kurapika carefully climbed inside and had to sit uncomfortably in the cramped space with his chin on his knees.  
“So… what’s up?” said Armin.  
“Tell me…” Kurapika couldn’t help being curious. “What happened here? Wasn’t this land trying to attack on titans?” that was what he’d heard about it. Being here though… all he’d seen were people lusting over a titan, a drunk commander, and people living serenely and cheerfully as titans casually killed them and destroyed their infrastructure.  
“Oh that?” laughed Armin. “when people realized fighting them was pointless (all we ever managed was killing dozens of our own men to take down a single titan at a time) we kinda stopped. Now Eren lives in titan form, and he’s known as Sexy Titan Eren for his abs of course. We started trying to use him for tourism. Which must be working I see,” he winked at Kurapika who stared back stonily.  
“Commander Erwin became an alcoholic, Captain Levi started his lucrative cleaning business, with a side business of selling Jaeger bombs – he’s earning millions I hear, and the people stopped worrying about titans and are now living their best lives for as long as they can manage to stay alive. Weed helps too, of course.” Said Armin, thumbs-up winky-facing him in a way that would make Might Guy proud.  
Kurapika thought back to the people so cheerful in their awful living conditions, they had admittedly seemed a little high.  
“Ah so that explains it. Not the happiest story but real-life ones rarely are. Now,” said Kurapika, taking a deep breath. “Let me tell you a story.”  
-  
A young Kurapika was on his way back to his village from Itachi’s house. They’d been having fun together, with Itachi showing him the various uses of the Sharingan eye their clan was famous for (while it was the same clan, Itachi was from the main branch that lived in a whole OTHER village, and thus they separated themselves completely from Kurapika’s village and were therefore uninvolved with anything happening there). But then Itachi had started murdering his parents so Kurapika took that as his cue to leave. As he walked back to his own home the village idiot, Danzo, started running at him shrieking that the Fire Nation was attacking. Danzo was accustomed to shouting this out at least once a week, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Kurapika threw a handful of salt in Danzo’s face (the only way to deal with THAT fascist dumbass) as he walked past. Something was wrong though. The village was too quiet. How long had Kurapika been away? He frowned to himself, as he arrived home.  
“Mother? Father?” he called out. He couldn’t hear anything. His parents must be taking a nap or something or maybe they were out.  
He walked into the living room, and what he saw made his heart stop. He screamed. He screamed and screamed; he didn’t dare believe it. How could this happen?? He must be hallucinating! He was tired, he was seeing things, that was it.  
His parents’ limp lifeless bodies were lying on the floor. The walls and floor were covered in blood.  
His feet moved of their own accord as he stopped in front of the bodies. Their sockets… they were empty. Their eyes had been removed.  
Kurapika pinched himself, “Wake up. WAKE UP. WAKE UP.” He pinched himself harder and harder, screaming all the while.  
-  
Armin was staring at Kurapika with wide eyes, “What happened then? Who did that to them?”  
Kurapika took a while before he responded, “The whole village -even the women and children- all murdered, their eyes taken out.” His fists were clenched as he said this. “It was the Phantom Troupe led by Chrollo, they killed everyone in my village for the Sharingan eyes. They left Danzo alive because he didn’t have them and wasn’t worth the effort. I wasn’t there for them to kill. They left a village elder alive too, the wise Tonpa, he’s a blind man so he too didn’t have the Sharingan. He sees other things though, futures. He was the one who helped me find you.”  
Armin stared at Kurapika, whose eyes had suddenly turned red. This must be the Sharingan.  
“I see,” he said before hesitantly adding, “I’m sorry about what happened to your clan but what made you want to see me specifically?”  
“I’ll just come out and say it,” Kurapika looked up, his fire-red eyes burning into Armin’s. “there was someone else who lived. We don't know why he was left alive... You are an Uchiha, Armin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and kudos for more! Show me love to inspire me to continue with this story ;)  
> -*(Sponsored by Halo Beauty)  
> -'marco dying for sins' is derived from a hilarious parody series called 'a slap on titan' which you guys should check out!


	2. Come.

Armin stared. His eyes were bugging out in a most unflattering way. He stared and stared for a while, unblinkingly. Kurapika checked his watch condescendingly.

“What did you say?” Armin finally said.

“I SAID that you’re an Uchiha,” replied Kurapika, his tone even.

“Waaaaaaaaa-” Armin who had been sitting up, now fell, pulling the walls of the box with him.

“Careful! You’ll rip your house apart!” said Kurapika disapprovingly. “Does your box have home insurance?” he guessed probably not which was, like, sooo irresponsible.

“But how can I -? NO. NOPE. Nuh-uh bro. Nay. Niet. Nahi. This is that show Prank Stage isn’t it? Alright where are the cameras?” Armin looked around wildly. “You can come out now, cameramen!” he hollered, poking his head out of the box. “COME.”

“Yo Armin bro! Why you shouting about cum when you’re a virgin ahahahahah?” called someone from a box opposite, just their eyes and forehead visible.

“Fuck you Reiner, bro.” called back Armin, his face red. He was immediately hit on the head by a potato that had shot out at him from seemingly nowhere.

“Armin-chan LANGUAGE!” hissed a man passing by. It was easy to deduce he was the potato-attacker.

“You’re making a scene!” hissed Kurapika.

“Oh I AM, am I?” shouted Armin, “The cameras will looove that I bet.”

“There ARE no cameras.”

Kurapika picked up the potato and irritatedly flung it back.

“How DARE-” the man was clearly livid.

“Kuraaapika!” cried Armin, “That’s Keith Sadies! You know- THE Keith Sadies. Senpai of the land. He used to train recruits for the military but since shit went down, he roams the streets” (‘ah so a homeless man’ thought Kurapika) “and senpais all the people in the ways of a good hooman. Without him, there’d be CHAOS.”

With that, Armin immediately stood up in the ‘attention’ position of troops.

“Senpai sir!!”

“Armin-chan you’re TRASH. Go live in a bin,” the man shouted as he threw a potato right at his face. “I should have you swinging from faulty manoeuvring equipment in the city centre for your hot-girlfriend-that-looks-like-you’s INSOLENCE.”

“Yes sir!” Armin bowed his head.

The man stalked off, watchful eyes darting around looking for further misconduct.

“Phew,” Armin wiped the sweet off his brow. “We’re just lucky Keith Sadies didn’t go through with what he said! The cameras would love it, but it’d be embarrassing as hell for us.”

“There are no cameras.”

“ANYWAY, back to what you said before… Look man, I know you THINK I’m from your clan and whatever, but I was born and raised here. So...” Armin tapped the top of his cardboard box affectionately.

“Armin, you’re definitely a Uchiha. You were brought here as a baby, and then adopted by the people you call your family.”

“They would have told me if that was at all true!” Armin’s tone was defensive, but he couldn’t help but think back to all the birthdays he’d had while his parents were alive. The cake was iced with ‘you’re adopted’ written in big letters each and every year. Armin had thought it was a hilarious meme-y joke that they’d always kept up whenever they introduced him to others – calling him ‘our adopted kid. Definitely not ours. Our DNA isn’t to blame for that.’ – but perhaps it could actually be true???

“Makes sense,” Reiner popped his head out of his cardboard box, chewing some blutack, “Your parent was, after all, the world-famous model Hisoka, and no-a-fence but like, he’s a solid 10/10 and you’re…”

“Living in a cardboard box?” Kurapika suggested helpfully.

“I’m what? An 11?” Armin replied to Reiner, winking at Kurapika, who didn’t have the effort to glare so he just stared stonily. Even in his cardboard-box state, Armin had to admit that Kurapika was the most beautiful and radiant being he had seen in a long time, with chin-length blonde hair and a pretty yet masculine face.

“Anyway, of course you’re an Uchiha… I mean just look at your eyes. They’re glowing red with the power of the Sharingan just like mine,” Kurapika’s voice had taken a softer note now, and he pulled a compact mirror out of his pocket, showing Armin his reflection.

“Sharingan? So that’s what it was?” Armin’s voice was now full of wonder and understanding, “My eyes have always gone red from time to time, normally when I’m red-dy for battle. I thought it was just eye infections. The doctors always gave me eye drops and Halo beauty vitamins. I always wondered why they didn’t work.”

Kurapika stroked his chin, wondering why a man who could afford halo beauty vitamins was living in a cardboard box.

“Brooo,” said Reiner in wonder, still listening into the conversation (cardboard walls were pretty thin), “We all stayed away from you and disinfected everything you touched cause we thought it was pink-eye but it was red-eye all along. Red-eye with powers, bro. Is that like a mutant and exceedingly strong and contagious conjunctivitis?” Reiner seemed to realise something and flinched away from Armin, “Knew i should have bought a plot near the skip at eastside, the goddamn red e-”

“The Sharingan is not contagious,” Kurapika revealed, stony and slightly irritated by Reiner’s rambling and sullying of the Uchiha name, “In actuality many see it as a gift. If you would like, I could teach you how to use it properly Armin… if you come with me, that is. You’d be strong enough to never have to live in a cardboard box ever again. Imagine,” Kurapika said wistfully, “Living a lyfe in a METAL bin. Or even a bus shelter.”

Armin’s eyes sparkled in awe, his stared up at Kurapika gobsmacked, lips parted. “A bus shelter,” he echoed in a whisper. He’d never dared dream of such luxury. With that much space, he could even own possessions. Or a piece of furniture. He’d forgotten what having a table or chair was like.

“Mm-hmm,” Kurapika slid a white leather glove onto his hand and held it out to Armin, palm-up, “What do you say, Armin?” his lips were quirked in a way that seemed unintentional but was clearly practiced, a brow raised and Kurapika spoke in a low tone that sent shivers through Armin’s body.

Armin reached a shaking hand out, eyes still wide, and he squeezed his fingers over the blonde-haired beauty’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 whole hits yay!! This chapter is for you guys to thank you for your undying support! Can't wait for 20 more >.<


	3. HELLFIRE

Thankfully, there was not much for Armin to pack. All he owned was the box he lived in, blutack, and a few pieces of underwear. He had many bottles of eye drops which he now realised he no longer needed and he whooped and tossed the eye drops at Reiner who shrieked. 

When Armin started to pick up his ‘house’, Kurapika frowned and said, “What are you doing? You don’t need that, there’s shelter where we’re going.”

“I can’t leave it behind!” said Armin voice thick with emotion, “this is my home. Ever since sexi Titan Eren destroyed my brick house, this box has been my only shelter. Even when it rained, the box got soggy but stayed strong for me. We’ve been in this together, this box and I.” Armin wiped a tear away. He had forgotten the porn magazines he’d shoved between two leafs of cardboard, and they all fell out embarrassingly obviously, hitting Kurapika’s feet. 

Kurapika stared at them awkwardly. “Incest porn. Nice.”

“GOOD THING YOU LOOK SO ALIKE,” Reiner shouted from across the street, head visible from his box, “YOU CAN PRETEND IT’S INCEST ARMIN, THOUGH YOU ARE LIKE, SOOOOO OBVIOUSLY THE UGLY SISTER. YOUR ONNICHAN GOT ALL OF THE GOOD LOOKS.”

“Well we can’t exactly carry that with us, it’s a pretty big box,” Kurapika pointed out, ignoring Reiner for the sake of his own sanity.

“I wanna take it with us!” demanded Armin. “I wanna, I wanna, I WANNA-”

Armin was now shrieking, and fell to his knees slamming his fists against the ground repeatedly. 

“I WANNA, I WANNA, I WANNA, I WANNA-”

“FINE,” Kurapika tried to keep his tone from being too snippy, but he was unsuccessful, “I guess we could… fold the box up? And maybe carry it with us that way?”

Appeased, Armin jumped up and wiped his tearstained face, an eager smile now forming on his face. He hovered and tried to ‘help’ while Kurapika packed up the box for him and tied it up with a cloth to the end of a long stick. 

“GIVE ME YOUR HALO BEAUTY VITAMINS,” Reiner screamed at Armin, who was now carrying the stick holding his ‘home’ over his shoulder, “GIVE THEM TO MEEEEE!”

“SUCK MY BIG FAT COCK!” Armin shrieked, dropping his house and his many many many possessions and throwing himself across the street to Reiner’s box, destroying the man’s house in one feral blow. Reiner, stuck in his house which collapsed on his body from the sheer force of Armin, began to sob loudly.

Kurapika shook his head in irritation. Was finding Armin even worth the trouble? But no...Kurapika came to the village behind wall Maria for a reason. And for the sake of the Uchihas, he would fulfil his destiny. 

-

A group of men shrouded in black robes moved slowly in a dark hallway holding candles to light their path. It all looked very dramatic although this was actually because the Marco-ism church hadn’t been paying their electricity bills. They hadn’t been receiving sufficient funding recently what with the Titans destroying everything. They’d tried asking for help from the multimillionaire Levi Ackerman, but this hadn’t gone too well. Levi did not follow the beliefs of Marco-ism - he even had the AUDACITY to state he didn’t even know who Marco was as if Marco was some -some- tertiary character? That he barely remembered??? And that Jean himself barely knew?? Like WHAT!!??- and because of this, the enraged head priest Jean had refused to accept any donations from him.

‘I wasn’t offering any donations,’ Levi had said tonelessly. While Levi was a good, generous man, he did not extend this generosity to those he deemed unworthy. Jean watched as he took a shot of Jaeger bawmb in a teacup, holding it from the top as he sipped rather than the handle. Probably the aristocratic way of drinking, Jean figured. He had tried to copy him, playing it cool, but holding it that way made him lose his grip, accidentally dropping the cup causing it to smash, and the liquor all spilled over the £170, 000, 000 carpet.

‘You’d better clean that up,’ Levi said, his voice monotonous but his eyes furious. As Jean scrubbed the carpet, and his top advisor Connie acted as a footstool to the esteemed Levi, Connie hissed to Jean ‘I know he’s not a believer and all but we don’t have the money to pay our gas or water bills either. And you do NOT want there to be no water at the Marco church. The whole box-house community uses that bathroom!’ 

Desperate, Jean offered to pray for Levi -heck he’d even throw in a book of hymns for free- if he’d just give them a few million pounds, but Levi had dismissed this generous offer. ‘Begone peasants,’ he said with a regal wave of his hand, motioning to his lackeys to pick up his throne – chair- and carry him out like the king that he was. 

‘Peasants?’ gasped Jean, ‘Why how DARE-’ just then, other lackeys of Levi’s appeared to forcibly remove the two holy men from the premises.

‘And now we have a public toilet used by 70% of the public with no running water’ said Connie gloomily.

“We could say the toilet’s off limits?” Jean suggested hopelessly.

“As the holy place of Marco, we could never refuse someone sanctuary or ignore their sanitation needs!” said Connie, shocked.

Jean had to agree sadly. He knew Marco would never want someone to be denied a toilet in his name.

-

In present time, the men lead the way to the altar where the head priest stood looking into a fireplace lit with crackling red flames. He was singing, seemingly unaware of their presence. “Hellfire, dark fire, now gypsy it’s your turn, choose me or your pyre, be mine or YOU WILL-” his loud, deep, crooning was interrupted by Connie who cleared his throat.

‘Er- Sir?” he said awkwardly. This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d walked in on Jean singing to the fireplace, but he sure hoped it was the last.

The head priest Jean Kirstein turned around slowly, craning his neck. The flames illuminated his face in dancing shadows, hood drawn over his brow. He was engulfed by the cloth of his weighty black robe, much like he was engulfed by the devotion he had for the lord and saviour, Marco himself. Twas rumoured that Jean was the late Marco’s closest disciple, and upon his death it was the disciple’s duty to carry on the cause.

Connie almost flinched at the anguished look on Jean’s face. The man had never looked anything but zen.

“Connie,” the head priest had clearly been caught off-guard, why was his head so close to the fire? Jean brushed his hood off his brow and replaced it with his black Mitre hat. Back before Connie had been redeemed and touched by the bold hand of Marco-ism he had thought that the garment was a chef’s hat, considering its resemblance to them.

“Yes?” Jean prompted in a solemn tone, his cheeks Sharingan-red as he hoped no one had heard his lustful song. He was after all a righteous man. Of his virtue he was justly proud. He couldn’t stand the thought of the people thinking he wasn’t so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd.

Unfortunately, they all had heard him, and were now averting their gayzes in embarrassment.

“There’s someone here that wishes to speak to you,” Connie said, motioning a girl, who had been hidden among the crowd of cloaked figures, forward.

“Oh my Marco... Mikasa, it’s really you?” he said startled, before clearing his throat and fixing his robe, trying to not look too eager and hoping his breath smelled fine (he hadn’t been able to brush his teeth as well as he’d have liked recently with their little water crisis) “I mean Mikasa, this is a surprise,” he made sure to keep his tone even so as not to betray his lusty desires for sexy Titan Eren’s sexy human sister. She was, after all, the reason he’d even started taking those Halo Beauty vitamins for sexy abs. He wondered if she could see them through his attire, the meters and meters of black cloth that made up his robe.

Mikasa looked deeply troubled. “Forgive me, bro, for I have sinned,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “I -I -I’m worried I might have cheated on my brother.”

“And you want to do it again?” asked Jean huskily, puffing his chest out ‘subtly’.

Ignoring him, Mikasa explained, “I was following my sexy brother as he rampaged, and as he went through the city streets, I- I- saw something. In one of the streets, where I’m pretty sure Armin lived, there was, there was-” she looked down in embarrassment, unable to even say it.

“Yes?” Jean prompted.

“PORN!” Mikasa wailed, burying her head in her hands, “Incest porn! Brother and sister, who looked like each other, having sex! in all sorts of ways… some I’ve dreamed about, others I hadn’t even imagined. It was just so… so titillating. I was just so aroused, I had to relieve myself there and then. But my brother should be the only one that makes me feel that way. It was wrong of me to get this pleasure from a magazine rather than the brother I’ve promised myself to. I just feel so- so guilty” she looked away, face crumpling, trying not to cry.

“Now Mikasa,” Jean said gravely, “Porn is a great sin. But don’t worry, Marco accepts your repentance. It is what he died for of course. He died so us mortals could look at porn. Armin, however…” he shook his head, “I’m disappointed in him for carrying such filth. Especially when he was doing so well in leading a minimalist life. Is he home, Mikasa? I must have a word with him. Make him see the error of his ways.”

“Oh him? he’s gone,” said Mikasa dismissively, “Reiner said he left with his sister? That’s why I said where Armin liveD not liveS.”

“He’s left? After leaving his filth lying around on a street?” his voice raised in volume with each syllable, “UNACCEPTABLE.”

He paused, “Wait did you say with his sister?” he remembered that girl that had been with Armin. She was smoking hot. Even hotter than Mikasa!

“Well to be accurate, Reiner said someone that LOOKED like she’d be his sister,” Mikasa replied.

“I know who you mean,” said Jean. He saw her in his mind’s eye, smouldering eyes scorching his soul. The sun caught in her golden hair, blazing in him out of all control, “which way did they go? Actually, never mind, I’m sure I’ll be able to find them. The spirit of Marco will guide me. I mustn’t waste anymore time. Connie you’re in charge until I get back!”

“… Are you sure sir?” said Connie.

“I’m afraid so. It’s not my fault in Marco’s plan, he made the devil so much stronger than a man.” With that, Jean rushed off through the doors.

Mikasa, who had initially FULLY intended to hand the magazines she’d picked up over to the church for safekeeping, decided to turn around quickly too. She had been repented; she could now enjoy this with a clear conscience. 


	4. A Serenade of Love

They’d only been walking for fifteen minutes when Armin started complaining about the weight of the many many possessions he was carrying with him. Frustrated, Kurapika had to take them from him, slinging the stick with the house over his own shoulder instead. When they’d walked another ten minutes, Armin needed to pee.

“You should have gone while we were still home,” said Kurapika severely, wondering despite himself how Armin had access to a toilet when he lived in cardboard.

“Well, I didn’t need to go _then_ ,” Armin insisted, hopping around.

“Okay fine,” said Kurapika irritably. It was a pain, but it was better for Armin to relieve himself here than piss himself on the way. Cleaning him up would be a whole challenge, “There are some bushes around, do your business and try not to take too long!”

They weren’t on a time crunch exactly, but he knew they should be back sooner rather than later.

“What!? No way! I’m not pissing in public like an ANIMAL! I’ll use a _proper_ toilet with _proper_ plumbing thank you very much!” Armin turned around in a huff.

Sighing, Kurapika followed, wondering how Armin could be so elitist despite his own living conditions. He kept an eye out for cardboard porta potties.

“The church!” cried Armin seeing the large, looming building in desperate need of some remodelling. The roof looked like it would cave in at any moment, the doors were rusty, the windows either covered in grime or broken.

Armin rushed in, shrieking “I need to pee, I need to pee, I need to pee, get out of the WAY, I need to peeee,”

Kurapika trailed behind, embarrassed.

While Armin was in the loo, some men in black robes passed by, nodding politely at Kurapika while carrying buckets of water they’d just brought in from the well. They didn’t particularly like having to trek all the way to the well, all while avoiding the rampaging Titans, just to bring back water for commoners’ toilet needs. But they did it out of love for Marco the Saviour. Connie had explained to them the reverent Marco would never forgive them if someone were to piss themselves due to being denied a toi-toi.

Eight minutes later when Armin was done, Kurapika sent him back to wash his hands, after that when Armin was REALLY done, the two of them were just about to leave when two robed men blocked their exit.

“Yo, yo, yo, Armin my bro, How does it go?” said one of them.

“Canye East!” said Armin cheerfully fist-bumping the man. To Kurapika he whispered, “rap legend of our generation, converted to Marco-ism and now devotes his time to the service of Marco.”

“Yo, yo, yo, d’you like my flow?, Armin’s sis - hello, your hair is yellow, your tone is mellow, your love I will swallow, forget your sorrow, don’t be no psycho, bow down to Marcooooooo,” Canye East’s killer rhymes were accompanied by amazayn beat-boxing by the man beside him.

“Bro Zane Milk?” whispered Armin, eyes widening.

Zane merely nodded. He had been touched by Marco’s hand as well, prompting him to leave his boyband “Attack on(E) Direction” and instead dedicate himself to the great Messiah.

Clearly starstruck, Armin blushed and babbled nonsense, as a cringing Kurapika cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, men, we need to go,”

“No, no, no, you can’t go, not this bro, he ain't dope, he wash his hands but he ain’t use soap!” Canye rapped.

“ARMIN!” hissed Kurapika, mortified. Sure, he hadn’t specified ‘with soap’ when he’d asked Armin to wash his hands, but Armin should have KNOWN.

An embarrassed Armin was sent back in shame to wash his hands again as Kurapika thanked Canye profusely for noticing. What if Kurapika had, like, TOUCHED him? Ew, ew, ew.

“For the record, I’m not his sister. Or his brother. We’re not related. DEFINITELY not related. Oh God. Just… the same clan.” Up until now, Kurapika had not bothered clarifying this for anyone but with Armin not washing his hands, he felt he needed to make this clear once and for all. He’d already been sighted too close to the other man, for anyone to think they ACTUALLY knew each other...Kurapika shivered.

“Is that so lil’ bro, imma tell you something down low, you and that lad Armin, he really likes ramen, but y’all r identicalllll,” Canye East rapped, shuffling his feet and adjusting his hat at a jaunty angle over his brow. Actually, he looked like a rapper from the early-2000s what with his low-riding jeans and general cardboard-box vibe.

Armin wandered out of the toilets, shaking water off his hands.

“Soap?” Kurapika asked. “Water? Show me your hands. And the other side.”

“That ugly lil’ fellow, the one with teeth that’re yellow, he ain’t got no game, jeez he is soooooo,”

Zane chimed in with Canyay, “LAMEEEEEEE!”

Kurapika couldn't help himself, he HAD to clap. Armin looked at his hands and tried to mimic the motion, but he didn't apply enough pressure to make any noise and ended up looking like a SeaWorld seal.

“Yo, my names Ar-MONEY, hey honey,” he winked at Kurapika, “Zane you look damn FUNNY, my shit is super runny, i live in a cardboard box, don't got no socks, my mum cried when she saw me, but then she diiiieeeedddddd,” Armin made a fake mic-dropping motion, holding his arms up with grandeur. 

“Lucky her,” Canye sniggered.

The lights suddenly turned low, a spotlight falling on Kurapika. The boi was still cringing at Armin’s proclamation and was considering joining his mother.

The organ started playing using the power of Marco himself, this was why the freckled lad died after all. For free piano lessons, and sins. 

“My name is JEAAANNNNN,” a voice sung gloriously in an opera-esque tone.

The spotlight shifted to the temple entrance, where Jean stood in his mitre hat, long trailing black robe, and a rose pursed between his lips, the thorns making his gums bleed.

“And you’re the most BEAUTIFUL - yes, the most BEAUTIFUL - lass I’ve ever...SEEEEN,” Jean dropped his arms toward the group’s direction, who were all on the other side of the temple, though he was clearly singing to one person. Though none of them were girls. Rose petals trailed after the mans, he’d clearly strapped a bag of them to his waist and was whooshing them around from under his robes.

“I would give you a rose, I would suck your toes, I’d die for your sins, Of course -

This is where our love BEEEEGINNNSSSS!” Jean threw himself in a backflip, showing a flash of his pantaloon-clad legs and a SLICE of ankle.

“Say you'll be mine,” Jean threw a handful of rose petals in the air with every line he sung, “Wouldn't that be divine, I’ll protect your sole, allow me to take that ROLE - of your...MANNNSSSSSSSSS,” Jean threw his tall mitre hat in the air and bowed his head, it fell perfectly onto his brow.

“I would kill ANYONE, yes ANYONE, who tried to hurt you…” JEan’s voice dropped an octave and with a wink at the stunned Kurapika he added, “You’re the only one.

The rage was potent in Armin’s red-eye gaze, “Yo yo my name’s Ar-MONEY, hey honey,” he winked exceedingly aggressively at Kurapkia, trying to assert dominance over Jean, “JEEAN you look so damn FUNNY, i betcha shit is RUNNY-”

“I’LL WORSHIP AT YOUR FEET, WITHOUT YOU I’M INCOMPLETE, TAKE MY HAND FAIR MAIDEENNN-”

“I’mma THROW OUT THAT BOX, KILL YOU WITH A BAG OF ROCKS-”

“Please tell me your name, this boy treats this like a GAME,” Jean sung with clear disdain, “Let me cherish you, this scum can’t do for you what i do,”

“YOUR MUM KILLED HERSELF WHEN SHE SAW YOU, SHE DEEEEEEEEEEEED,”

“A boy with no class like him, he’ll treat you like a whim, listen to my song of love, a hymn written for you my dove, hear my words they all ring true, I’d write every haiku every sonnet for you, allow me to be your only lover, all the layers of my heart you can uncover, all these feelings i must confess tonight, as I hold you in my arms so tight, i present to you - my love my heart my life, and today in the name of Marco I ask you to be myyy wiiiiiiiiife,” the spotlight that had been following Jean and Armin (the spirit of Marco guided it), now settled on a ring box. Jean was on all fours,the little black box on his head, pointing it up towards Kurapika. 

He waited. Armin waited. Canye East waited. Zane Milk waited. Connie, hearing the commotion, dropped by and waited.

They waited for a while.

Jean was getting fidgety on all fours, his knees hurt - he suddenly remembered people normally proposed on ONE knee dammit, his palms were sweaty and he tried not to skid on the floor. He looked up hopefully at his beautiful lass. 

“This ring has been in my family since the dawn of time, Jean Jeanus the First was a proud explorer and founded the land Jeannaej, which of course became modern-day Europe. A proud locksmith carved this ring from a stone he found at the bottom of a river, with my family emblem on it, the rock was later to be found out as the final and only fossil of the Jeanius dinosaur which went extinct when my ancestor Jean Nejas the Fifth hunted them all down for sport.”

Still, Kurapika was silent. The silence remained for a very. Very long time. Connie’s 5 o clock shadow became a 10pm shadow. The sun set. 

Eventually, Jean had to weakly concede, “so that’s a maybe then?”

Kurapika silently shook his head. 

Armin whooped, “take that SUCKA!”

Jean looked gravely at Armin, “If your shit is really that runny, you should turn to the Lord Marco and seek his guidance. I could pray to him on your behalf, I am the high priest and founder of Marco-ism after all.”

Armin scowled, “I LIKE runny shit!” he snapped indignantly, irritated that Jean was so pious even after Armin had outwardly offended the man.

Kurapika cleared his throat, “High Priest, thanks for that song. I don't know how your ego will recover nor does it particularly bother me, but Armin and i have to get going now.”

Jean perked up, “Where are you going?” he curiously wondered why this fair maiden’s voice was so deep, but alas she was quite the handsome woman and Jean couldn’t help but appreciate that more up close.

“No where, really. We’ll travel and hunt bounties, I’ll teach Armin how to use the abilities of our clan.” Before the trip Kurakipa hadn't even considered how daunting it would be to be stuck with Armin. But to be sharing a bathroom with someone who had perpetual explosive diarrhea? 

“Armin, you have sinned greatly with your incestuous pornography, and now you plan to leave this city, taking your sinful tendencies with you. As a priest, I cannot allow this. I must join you and spread the word of Marco-ism, clearly the arrival of this beautiful maiden is my calling, my vocation if you will.” His eyes shone at the last sentence. His faith in Marco made him so happy. Just that day, he had run all over the city looking for Armin and Kurapika, guided by the spirit of Marco, but unable to find them. He had accepted his loss and trailed back to the church. And what did he find there? ARMIN AND KURAPIKA! Marco truly knew all.

As much as he was eager to spread Marco’s teachings, he also had a secret cheeky motive. He glanced at the stunning Kurapika again, wondering where such a hot chick came from. He was NOT lustful, lust is sin, sin bad. He merely wanted to marry the woman, and satisfy his manly desires after marriage.

Kurapika had already left some time ago, while Jean was speaking. Armin bounded after him like a puppy. Turning to Canye West he added, “Yo Canye, I’m really happy for you and imma let you finish but Ar-Money is the greatest rapper of all time!”

Canye sputtered. What INSOLENCE! Zane put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook his head.

Jean stared after the open door. Connie cleared his throat, about to ask Jean what his plan for restoring the church’s water and electricity facilities was, when Jean sprinted out as well, hot on the two blonde bois’ trail. Connie sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to Julezandfandoms! Thank you for the kudos, hope you keep reading, and appreciate the undying support ;) <3


	5. And so it begins

Kurapika still had Armin’s cardboard box slung over his shoulder. The boy was trailing behind him, whining like a little child and dragging his feet. 

Further behind the pair was Jean, with a skip to his step and a tune on his lips. His mitre hat stood tall on his head, his hands folded over his stomach. 

“Jean, LEAVEEEE,” Ar-MONEY whined, refusing to respond to any other name. Kurapika had refused to call him by his given name, hence them not talking for the past two days. 

Though it had been two days they were no further than 1.5 miles from the church of Marco. Armin kept remembering some piece of cardboard he’d forgotten or left behind, and other than that he needed frequent toilet breaks and had to be taught by Kurapika how to pee standing up (Jean was wholly confused, wasn’t the beautiful, radiant, handsome Kurapika a girl?? Perhaps she was just a very knowledgeable lass).

They had been walking for a whole fifteen minutes since the last toilet break and Armin had already started to hop between his legs, holding his crotch with one hand. “Kurapika, Kur-APIKA, I need to peeeeeeeeee,” Armin cried. Tears came to his eyes and his whining increased in pitch. 

“Now would be a good time as any to take a break,” Jean said smoothly, increasing his gait and catching up with Kurapika, who had stopped walking in his frustration. If he so much as TRIED to ignore Armin’s cries for ‘toi-toi’, the boy would threaten to piss himself and Kurapika honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

“Fair maiden, please allow me to use this large banana leaf to bring you shade as you rest in this hot climate. Or if you would prefer you can take a nap in my arms, I will hold you so you do not need to lay on the dried and rough soil on the ground, I would hate for even a speck of dirt to come anywhere near you. No, scrap that - i will carry you the rest of the way for our journey, no need for you to tire your wonderfully sculpted and beautiful legs. I would lay my life out for you, it is what our Lord Marco would want as well I’m sure,” Jean ended with a small gentlemanly bow, absolute sincerity oozing into his every word. 

“No!” Armin screamed from behind the tree where he was pissing, “No no NO,” as if having a tantrum. He started jumping up and down in anger, still pissing, the stream goin’ all wavy against the tree bark. 

“Do not speak against Lord Marco in such an insolent tone,” Jean hissed, very VERY offended, “He gave you the luxurious Temple of the Toi-Toi. He gave you the shelter of your cardboard box when you lost your brick house by his will. He allowed you to afford Halo vitamins when you could afford nothing else. He watched you starve, all while knowing there was a larger and better plan out there for you.”

Armin scowled. As much as he wanted to, he could not refute Jean’s words. It was true, no one could deny Lord Marco’s generosity. Damn that high-and-mighty priest. To show him, he stuck his tongue out and wagged it at Jean. 

“Nice comeback,” said Kurapika cuttingly, embarrassed by just being in Armin’s vicinity.

“Thanks,” said Armin with a proud smirk, too dumb to recognize Kurapika’s barely conceiled sarcasm.

After Armin came back from pissing, pulling his jeans up, Kurapika sent him back to wash his hands. When he came back again, Kurapika sent him back to wash his hands WITH SOAP. Third time was the charm, when Armin came back, meeting the standards of basic human hygiene.

Jean was shaking his hand. “In Marco-ism we encourage purity of soul and body, Armin. I have delivered many a sermon about this. It would do you good to heed my words, young one. They’re only for your own sake, so you do not have to fear for your immortal soul.”

Armin scowled but could not retort for once again Jean was right. 

“Shouldn't you be with your cult-um, I mean, shouldn’t you be in your temple?” Kurapika asked. The amount Jean spoke about the church, Marcoism, and the temple, you’d think he had no place roaming the lands, especially those outside Wall Maria which Kurapika planned to go through. 

“Fair Maiden, I have been sent to do Lord Marco’s work in his name; this is why I stand before you. And as Lord Marco decreed, using porn to ‘get oneself off’ is exceedingly banned, he placed an even higher ban on incestuous porn. Armin - ah, i apologise, Ar-MONEY - is a member of the church of Marco, and i must do my best to protect him from a life of sin, and after he was sighted with all of his incest magazines in his cardboard box.”

Jean’s words didn't sound too realistic, but they seemed reasonable considering how weird the church of MArco was. None it made sense, so maybe high priests commonly DID embark on long quests with their church members. Plus, as bizarre as he was, Kurapika couldn't help but admit that Jean made being around Armin a little more bearable. 

“Stop talking!” Armin screamed, “He’s MY clan member, not YOURS, Jean! And I saw him first! HE’S MINNNEEEEE!” With his final statement Armin fell onto the ground and started punching it with his feet and heels, crying loudly.

They had moved only around twenty paces from the tree Armin had pissed on.

“The only thing you own here is this,” Kurapika dropped Armin’s wrapped cardboard box onto his torso. “Even then, I’m pretty sure you stole it. It’s printed with the Titan Merchandise™ logo.”

Jean audibly gasped, fingers pressed to his mouth which was dropped in an ‘o’ shape. “S-stole? Ar-MONEY, is this true? How could you, when the church of Marco was providing free cardboard boxes for all? I can’t believe you’d steal, after everything Lord Marco has done for you!”

Armin continued to scream and cry on the floor, tears streaking into his hairline and snot bubbling out his nostrils. 

“ARMIN!” Kurapika shouted over his crying, face turning red (like his eyes) from anger, “See this? SEE THIS? If you don’t get up RIGHT NOW, imma TEAR your house apart!”

“YOU’RE SUCH A MEANIE!” Armin cried, “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! I WISH I’D NEVER BEEN BORN!”

“Shut the hell up,” Kurapika growled, leaning over Armin’s body and grabbing his collar, “Don’t you remember? Our whole clan died, it’s a miracle you’re even here,” at the word ‘miracle’ Jean piped up, nodding to himself, “Grow the hell up,” Kurapika seethed. He lowkey considered giving Armin the option to go back to his ‘home’, but MARCODAMMIT he needed Armin, disgusting and foul as it was to admit.

Armin suddenly stopped crying, noisily gulping down his sobs. His eyes were red, eyelids swollen, lower lip wobbling. He pulled his thumb up to his mouth and sucked on it, trying to soothe himself. 

“We’re going to get to the inn by nightfall, no questions asked. No more breaks. I’m sleeping in a bed tonight, the cardboard box lyfe isnt for me,” Kurapika continued to berate him. 

Armin curled on the floor, whining and holding his knees to his chest, gently rocking himself.

Jean shook his head again, clearing his throat to prepare a sermon for Armin. The words of Marco would help anyone, even the marcoforsaken Armin. Besides, Kurapika clearly needed his help.

At that moment, a carriage drove past.

Screams of “it’s him, it’s him” could be heard from inside, the carriage shaking back and forth as people clearly clamoured to look out of the windows.

“STOP THE CARRIAGE”, squealed someone from inside, wildly poking their head out, gawking at Armin. 

It was a man with bulging biceps and an exceedingly prominent bulging bulge, a face too small for his large muscular frame. He looked around 40-50ish, and had a serious expression on his face. It was strange such a high-pitched squeal would come out of a man like this.

“AR-MONEY!!” he whooped, punching the air. 

Ar-Money finger gunned his fans from his position on the floor, as Kurapika and Jean stared with disbelief. 

“Ar-Money, Ar-Money, Ar-Money!! Daddy, I wanna meet Ar-Money. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna,” screamed a small 13ish year old kid. 

“This is my boy, Killua, he’s one of your biggest fans. Our whole family is actually. I’m Silva by the way,” the father explained to Armin. 

“Thanks for being an Armonizer,” Armin winked at the family. Silva’s wife fainted immediately. 

“I tend to have that effect on women,” Armin laughed with an arm behind his head -true anime style (Kurapika had to hold back his vomit).

One of them was crying into his sleeves, overwhelmed being in the presence of Ar-Money.

“Aw, Illumi,” said his little brother, Killua, compassionately.

“He just means so much to me,” wailed Illumi.

A smaller child peered out from behind its parents, too shy in the presence of the fabulous rapper. When Armin winked at it, and gave it a thumbs up, the child screamed and went back to hiding behind Silva. 

“Silly boy, this is your chance to meet Ar-Money. Weren’t you just saying this morning you want to marry him, Kalluto?” Silva said jovially.

“Maybe when you’re legal,” Armin finger gunned the kid, “You know what, since you’re fans, I’ll give you a live concert here and now.”

He stood back, cleared his throat, and began, “My name is Ar-Money-”

He pointed at the Zoldyck fam, who were only too happy to join in. 

“HEY HONEY!” they sang in synchrony, winking aggressively.

“Jean looks-” he pointed at the Zoldycks again.

“DAMN FUNNYYYY.”

“My shit is-” 

“SUPER RUNNNYYYYYY” screamed the Zoldycks.

“HELL YEAH IT IS,” boomed Armin, high fiving little Kalluto.

Everyone laughed jovially and excessively, clearly high on the adrenaline of meeting their favourite artist Ar-Money.

  
“I-Is that your cardboard box, Mr Ar-MONEY?” Killua said in a high-pitched voice when the laughter died down, pointing at the cargo dumped by Armin’s still-laying-in-the-dirt body. “When I’m older i wanna live in a cardboard box, just like you!”

Armin did the worm over to the child, “If you’re lucky, your parents will die in a freak accident just like mine and you’ll have no choice but to live in one!”

“YAYYYY!” Killua cheered, running around in circles, while Silva laughed a booming laugh; what a cheeky boi Ar-MONEY was.

Armin signed all their T-shirts and socks for them. Silva bent over and exposed his underwear for Armin to sign as well. Silva’s wife came to, but seeing the sexy, sexy Ar-Money so close made her collapse again. Good thing Silva was not a jealous husbando aha.


	6. Travels

Thankfully Kurapika used his (Ar-MONEY’s) charm to convince the Zodalyiks to allow his party to get a lift off them, though it didnt take much convincing. Armin spent the entire carriage ride muttering to ‘himself’ that he was trying reallyyyy hard to keep a fart in. 

He wasn’t successful, and partway through the trip kurapika found himself vomiting onto jean’s priestly attire while Mama Zodalick tried to bottle precious Ar-MONEY’s expunged fecal matter. “I want to hold this scent close to my heart!” She cried, pouring a jar of jam out the window and holding the opening to armin’s clothed ass in the hopes he’d parp again. 

“Fair maiden,” jean tipped up Kurapika’s chin, Kurapika found himself too shocked and bleary to push the mans away. Jean dabbed Kurakipa’s mouth with his handkerchief. “I didn’t know you got carriage sick fair maiden, though perhaps now it makes sense a little that we’re walking everywhere.”

Kurapika didn’t bother to correct the mans, jerking out of his grip and trying to avoid his gaze lest Jean see the embarrassed blush on his face and misinterpret it. 

“If you suffer from motion sickness allow me to disrobe from my priestly attire; you only threw up on layer one and I always wear a backup in case of emergency priest things. I’ll take it off and you can hold it over your face, perhaps trying to sleep will do you some good.” At that Jean started on the collar of his robe.

“No! No - nope, thats okay,” Kurapika said urgently, slightly flustered. He had just vomited on the man, jeez - was Jean clingy much?

“Are you quite sure, my love? I have been placed on this earth to protect and cherish you, to look after you, to ensure your comfort. Disrobing is nothing compared to what i am willing to do for you.”

“I’m sure! I’m very sure!”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the carriage approximately 15cm away, Ar-Money accidentally shat himself during his attempts to fart into Mama Zodalick’s jar and was doing his best to put all of his weight on his feet instead of his ass while seated to avoid sitting directly on his own mound of turd. The carriage jostled over some rocks and Armin felt the meaty wetness of his own shit spreading over his cheeks when he fell into the seat, the scent foul and pungent. He knew it was a matter of seconds before the shit would spread through the thin layer of his trousers and onto the velvet upholstery of the Zodalyk carriage.

“Did you fart again without letting me bottle it?” Mama Zodalyik sung, waving the empty jam jar teasingly in Armin’s face. Over the journey she’d stopped passing out so much, though she was still pretty pale.

“Um - um NO,” Armin said, searching wildy for a lie, “It’s the sound of a brewing beat! Uh - you think you smell POO - uh, uh, DON’T YOU, my name’s AR-MONEY, aint got no MONEY, riding in a carriage, garage garage garage, uh - “

“AMAZING!” Illumi cried, weeping into his sleeves, “SO WONDERFUL! ORIGINAL, PURE, I-”

“SHUT UP!” Silva shouted to his son, “YOU’RE INTERRUPTING HIS PROCESS!”

Killua was staring open-mouthed at Ar-Money, his young mind could not comprehend how someone could be so talented, such a great freestyler. They say don’t meet your heroes, but Killua was so glad he met his. 

Kurapika and Jean sat pressed against each other in the compressed space of the carriage, Kurapika trying to create some space between himself and the cursed Ar-Money.

“Ar-Money,” the child said, leaning over in his seat to talk to Kurapika, “Can you sing your other song again? You know the one, it-”

“Oh - oh no,” Kurapika shook his head desperately, “I’m not Armin - i mean, Ar-Money, this other boy is -”

“What?!?” the child yelled, “I THOUGHT THERE WAS TWO OF YOU THIS WHOLE TIME, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!?!”

“Normally,” Silva started in a cool tone, “I’d berate Kalluto for such foul language. But he’s right - if you’re not Ar-Money’s double, who ARE you?”

Suddenly everyone in the carriage was facing Kurapika with expressions of disgust.

“I - I’m,”

“Fair maiden -”

“HE’S MY LOVER!” Armin bleated passionately, “MINE! DON’T SA-” Armin was about to finish his confession, but right at that moment the carriage jolted again and the shit in Armin’s trousers smeared further over his buttcheeks. 

-

After that proclamation it only took the two Armins, Lord Marco’s top disciple, and the Zodalicks about another half hour to reach the centre of the next city along. By that time the smell in the carriage had become unbearable in the small space of the vehicle and Kurapika managed to make up a cheeky fib to get out of there.

“Ah,” Jean said when he stepped off the carriage, holding his hand out to help Kurapika off (the boi had been waiting patiently behind him for his own turn to get off the stinky hellfire ship); Kurapika blatantly ignored him but the mans was a master at not taking anything to heart, “Bobby Town.”

“It’s pronounced Boobie. Boob-ie,” Kurapika huffed in deep gulps of normal air.

Armin fell out of the carriage and the Zodalicks weeped, reaching their arms out of the windows and waving Armin off, holding out their handkerchiefs. It was very emotional. Jean wiped a tear, Kurapika had to hold back from middle fingering them. 

“I shall never let such a lewd word pass my lips, as a devout follow of Marcoism i know the repercussions,” Jean said wisely, “And three earth-hours in the sled of hellfire just isn't worth it, i plan on spending my afterlife on sunny beaches or in the Temple of the Toi-Toi with my waifu,” he winked obviously at Kurapika.

“But alas, it is nightfall now,” Jean said, staring up at the navy night sky. “Let us find an inn to stay in for the night, not a manger they are less than comfortable. Ah Kurapika, do you see that blazing star up there, it’s as if it is asking us to follow it. Oh and those three elderly men, they seem quite wise. Elderly men, do you have some wisdom to depart upon us? Where might the nearest place for us to rest for the night be?”

“Rest!” one of the men slurred, “Hahahaha!”

“Go right at the next street! Then left! Then right right right right-”

“LEFT!” All three of the wise elderly men shouted. 

“Got it!” Armin yelled, “I’LL LEAD THE WAY, FOLLOW ME-” Armin paused, “On second thoughts don’t. I have nothing to hide. I didnt shit my pants. Theyre black anyway you wouldn’t be able to tell. Uh - KURAPIKA, you go!”

“No,” Kurapika said blandly.

“Worry not fair maiden and Armin. I shall lead the way, you simply relax. Thank you three wise men, we appreciate this very much. We are tired and weary after our travels, the carriage was so rocky we might as well have been riding on a donkey.”


	7. Revelations 1

“This doesn’t look right,” Jean muttered lowly. “I followed their instructions perfectly. Left right right right right left.”

“Did you do all the rights? Maybe you missed one out,” Kurapika said.

“Uh...uh…” the shit in Armin’s pants wasn’t the ONLY thing making him feel hot down there, “I think we’re good. I think we’re in the right place. This is good. We can stay here for the night.”

Jean shook his head sadly, “I knew i had to come here with you, to reform you. Lord Marco, please forgive this sinner. He doesn't mean it. He isn’t thinking impure thoughts, please, you died for our sins and please take this one last burden.” Jean spoke up to the clouds.

They didn’t reply.

“Coo-eyyyyy,” a crossdresser purred from the doorway of the establishment, “It’s cold and wettt,” the man licked his lips, “out there.”

The man was tall, with a slim frame. Despite his slender body, he was well-ripped, with flat eight-pack abs, toned biceps and triceps, and a Herculean torso. He wore black fishnet tights with little black bows, a black mini skirt so short it barely passed the pelvic region. His crop top was very short as well, ending just beneath the nipples. Gothic black and white tattoos covered his arms and abdomen. There were flowers, skulls, and dragons scrawled all over him, as fascinating as the man himself. On his face, he wore lipstick as red as blood, thick winged eyeliner, and false spidery lashes. A single gold hoop shone from one of his ears. His hands were covered by black fingerless gloves, his nails were too long to be real, the colour green - as dark as the shade of his hair. The man tapped his fingernails against his crossed arms as he surveyed them, a smile that was almost predatory covered his face, there was a seductive yet dangerous look in his eye. He was like a siren you were told to stay away from, but would willingly drown for.

Armin licked his lips and shifted in his shit-doused trousers.

“Do you know somewhere we can stay the night?” Kurapika asked the lad blandly.

“You’re in luck,” the man crossed his legs; Armin’s gaze ran down them, “We have rooms upstairs. You’ll have to pay by the hour, though, if you get what i mean… :P”

“How does one say :P? Oh shit, i just did it,” Jean gasped. He’d covered his eyes with his hands to help himself resist temptation or curiosity...he was only human after all, an inherently sinful creature.

“We can pay by the hour,” Kurapika said. He was, like, absolutely donee with sleeping outside all the time and like, super badly needed a bed and proper bathing facilities.

The man moved out of the doorway and allowed the three of them in. Jean hesitated for only a moment, refusing to leave his fair maiden to fend for herself. Armin was positively ecstatic to enter the establishment, though the crossdressed man’s nose wrinkled when he passed by.

Armin licked his lips, eyes darting between all of his potential victims. A woman wearing a fishnet shirt and nipple covers and a g-string, etc. there were so many beautiful people, though none measured to the beauty that had beckoned them into the establishment. 

“Would you like to have someone to join you in your rooms? Three rooms right?”

“Yes,” Armin stated immediately.

“No,” Kurapika snapped, glaring over at the ugly blonde. “One room, just us three. We’re not spending any more money than we have to, who knows when we’ll get our next bounty?” Kurapika usually had a high success rate as a bounty hunter, but being accompanied by two untrained people would certainly hinder his efforts. 

“Pretty please,” Armin lent over and whispered to Kurapika, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “Just one, just this once? Please please PLEASSSEEEE I never ask you for anything, i just want this one thing! Please Kurapika PLEASSEEE just this ONCEEEE-”

“Please,” Kurapika hissed at him, “I have tolerated you for the past couple of days. I have carried your damn cardboard box, waited out your tantrums. I’ve paid for your food and made sure you had somewhere safe to sleep every night. But if you make this difficult, then…” Kurapika looked away, tears of frustration clouding his vision.

Jean placed a calming hand on his shoulder, “We’re all tired. Let’s go to bed and talk about this in the morning.”

Armin wasn’t having it. He sunk to the floor like jelly and started to sob loudly, loud enough for other patrons to hear him over the sound of the of the din. “I WANT HIM I WANT HIM I WANT HIM,” Armin pointed toward the man.

“I’m flattered,” the prostitute said, “my name’s Gon by the way.”

“No one cares.” Kurapika frowned at him. “How much is the room? We only need enough bed space for two, Armin doesnt deserve it. He’ll be on the floor.”

Gon nodded, checked his keyboard, and handed Kurapika a set of keys. “It’s pretty unorthodox for someone to stay here without paying for a companion.”

“Sin,” Jean hummed under his breath, “I’ll pray for your forgiveness - EVERYONE’S forgiveness, i promise you. Marco died for our sins, after -”

“Shut up, Jean,” Kurapika snapped. “Here’s some money.”

Gon noted something down on his clipboard and handed Kurapika a set of keys. “Just come down if you want someone.”

“I WANT HIM I WANT HIM! KURAPIKKKKAAAAA I WANT GONNNNN,”

“I want you gone,” Kurapika said dryly. Armin couldnt hear him over his own screams.

“I WANT HIM I WANT HIM MY PANTS TINGLE AND ITS BECAUSE OF HIMMM PLEASEEEE I PROMISE TO NEVER ASK YOU FOR ANYTHING EVER AGAIN!”

“Shut up, kid!” a rando shouted.

“If he doesn’t quieten down you’ll have to leave,” Gon said. “No refunds. Bye now.” he crouched under the counter, ‘disappearing’ in Armin’s eyes.

“KURAPIKA WHERE DID YOU GO YOU SCARED HIM WHERE IS HE I WANT HIM BACK DONT BE GONNNEEEEE GONNNNNN!”

“Hi my name’s melody, i work security. I applied for the role of sex worker but apparently im a very ‘acquired taste’. Regardless im going to have to ask you and your twin and the priest to leave, you’re disrupting other customers. I mean it was initially with his ugliness,” she pointed to Armin on the floor, “and that’s coming from ME ha ha ha. But now he’s just being loud and super pathetic. At a brothel we’re used to seeing pathetic people - no offence Mort, and uh, Jameson, and whoever the hell you are - but as i was saying, your twin is a whole other breed of pathetic. I don’t blame Gon for hiding behind the counter-” 

“AHA!” Armin cried, jumping up and leaning over the counter, only to find Gon’s scrunched up body, “I CAN SMELLLL YOUUUUUU!”

“The only thing i can smell is a fresh turd. I’ll call Gean to clean the toilets. GEANNNNN!” Melody shouted over her shoulder.

“Is she asking for me? Where are the toilets young miss, whenever a toi-toi calls i must answer. It is of course Lord Marco’s will.”

“Lord Marco? You travellers know of Lord Marco? I thought he was only known to locals. Hey, are you gonna get that kid to shut up or not?”

“Armin. Armin!” Kurapika seethed. “No you are NOT getting with Gon. i refuse to pay for it. Can’t you see how desperately he’s trying to run away?” the man in question was trying to prise Armin’s hand off his wrist, crying quietly, “GET HERE RIGHT NOW OR IMMA SHRED YOUR CARDBOARD BOX!”

“DO IT! A HOME MEANS NOTHING WITHOUT LOVE AND SEXI PROSTITUTES TO FILL WITH IT!”

Jean had his thumbs pressed to his lips and his eyes closed, muttering prayers silently as the ‘twins’ argued in the brothel. 

Kurapika dropped the bundle of house from his shoulder to the floor and used his sharingan eye to set it ablaze with a simple squint.

“NOOOO!” Armin leapt off Gon and toward the fire, dropping his torso onto the flaming box - either in an effort to put out the flames or die alongside his box. 

By leaning over his ass was put on full display and everyone winced in unison at the smell of his crusting turd-lined trousers, though they were yet to locate the source of the smell. 

“Should i be worried?” Melody motioned to the fire.

“Nah, only the box will be burnt. My clan used to call it the Amaterasu - Sharingan Fire I guess you could call it, but whatever they’re all dead now.” All but Armin. 

Some other brothel patrons looked over to the fire, others seemed too drunk to even notice it, but no one seemed alarmed. 

“What’s going on here? A Sharingan Fire? I thought they were only a thing of legend,” a man in a designer purple coat, matched with a purple hat. In his hand, he held a silver cane. He was wearing sunglasses, even though they were inside and it was night-time. He was smoking a cigar, and he blew out smoke rings in the others’ faces.

“It appears we have a Uchiha in our midst, and there I was thinking they had all died out!” the pimp laughed jovially, head tipped back. 

Armin was still wrestling with his cardboard box on the floor, but it had all already burned so it just looked like he was failing very much at doing the worm.

Kurapika winked at Armin’s body and the fire bled out.

“MYYYY BOOOXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!” Kurapika screamed back, his voice breaking. 

Jean placed a calming hand on Kurapika’s shoulder and the boi took a deep breath before turning back to the pimp. 

“Which one of you is the Uchiha? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Marco...and let me say, a Uchiha would sell quite well in my humble little establishment, so if you need a little extra pocket change…” Marco’s face was shadowed from his wide-rimmed hat. “It helps that you are quite a fair lady…” Marco reached over for Kurapika’s hand but Kurapika moved it out of the way. For a moment it was a very physical goose chase, Marco circling Kurapika’s body to grab his hands and Kurapika stumbling around Jean and hiding his hands within his robe to avoid Marco’s touch.

Jean’s brow started to raise in recognition.

“I’ll politely decline your offer - “ Kurapika shouted as he darted around to avoid the pimp.

“A shame,” Marco panted, still reaching around for Kurapika’s hand, “if you change your mind you know where i am -”

The pair continued to dart back and forth, all while Jean stared after the pimp’s disgusting purple jacket.

“Marco? From Wall Maria? We went to school together?” Jean’s voice was tinged with amazement, “But - but- you died for our sins! I watched you get eaten by Sexy Titan Eren. I - how are you still here, what are you doing here?”

“Whaaaaaa?” Marco stopped chasing Kurapika. “I don’t recognise you. Should i recognise you? You make it sound like i'm supposed to recognize you. And it’s okayyyy i didnt really die i faked my deth to get away from my crazy stalker, his name was Jean -”

Jean gasped, “MY NAME IS JEAN TOO! Wait...what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEDICATED TO MY BBY BOI NYAKI! THANK YOU FOR READING! I CRI


	8. Revelations 2

“Don’t worry,” Melody piped up, “Whenever he tells this story he changes the reason. He told me he faked his death because he wanted to be inside Sexi Titan Eren and that was the only way he knew how. He told Gon it was to escape the Marian Mafia -”

“The mafia were after you!??!” Jean gasped audibly, hands clapped over his mouth.

“Okay - okay,” Marco said conspiratorially, “Follow me. To my office. I’ll tell u the truth. All of it. Every single bit. MELODY HOLD DOWN THE FORT AND TELL GON TO STOP LOOKING TOo SEXI, HE’LL MAKE ME SOIL MY TROUSERS WITH MY CUM!”

“I’m right here,” Melody said with a wince, standing right beside MArco. “Just because im short you dont have to shout. The sound will still reach me.”

Gon perched on a tall barstool, pointedly crossing his legs to draw attention to them, resting a hand on his face in a way that made him look sugoi sexi. 

“On second thoughts, come with us. I already have a boner. I’m really hard right now. Come come,” MArco looped his arm around Gon’s waist and led himself, Jean, and Kurapika into his office. Armin had a delayed response, sobbing on his knees at the remnants of his old cardboard abode.

Armin slammed the office door behind him when he got in there and sent Kurapika a stony glare.

“So why did you have to leave Wall Maria?” Kurapika asked, trying to redirect the conversation back to the matter at hand. 

“Was it for our sins?” Jean asked with a mixture of confusion and eagerness, eyes wide with innocence.

“What? No. i got thrown out for being the top shagger, 60% of the children born between 2017-2020 are mine. But it’s okay, before i left i told all the children i was heading out to get some semi skimmed. Joke’s on them! We haven't had any milk in decades since we fed all the cows to the titans and accidentally kept two males instead of a male and a female. Man, whoever did that was super dumb. I think his name was Arnie. Armie. Well whatever, do you remember what they did to that poor sucker, Jean? They PLOWED DOWN that f-er’s house, by unleashing the Titans on it. Last i heard, he was living in a cardboard box!” Marco chuckled evilly, 

Armin shifted on his feet uneasily, trying to avoid everyone's gaze while sucking his snot back into his nasal cavity, wiping at his swollen eyelids. 

Jean shook his head regretfully. “Oh, that was a rough time for that poor chap. Unfortunately it all happened before i took my position of head priest at the church otherwise i would have loved to help them.”

Marco blew a raspberry. Gon was perched in his lap sexily, rolling a lollipop over his tongue. 

“Why would you leave without telling anyone? What of all the children you sired?” Jean pondered aloud.

“Bro! There were like, a million kids or something! Ain't no way i could afford all that! One baby mama would be like ooooh Marco, i need nappiessss, and the next would be like, Marco can you babysit while i visit my dying family in hospital, and the other would be all like you dont spend enough time at home with Juniorrr and he’s forgotten what you look like and like, Jean bro have you ever had more than fifty kids? Between fifty and one-fifty, i stopped counting after a while.”

“No.”

“Don’t. It’s like, suchhhh a drag. All those people who are like OOOHHHH FATHERHOOD IS SOOO GREAT - they’re all lying! Just because they didn't figure out how to fake their deaths and get out of it! But i did. I cracked the code. Excelsior! The reign of Lord Marco is supreme!” he swung his fist in the air dramatically.

Had Marco always been like this? Jean thought back to one of his favourite memories of Marco. They had been in high school together, in their late teens. Jean didn’t have many friends, he was a bit of an introverted loner. His attempts to form bonds and friendships had been unsuccessful with the other pretentious students. He didn’t even have anyone but the teachers and nurse to eat lunch with. But then, the popular yet kind Marco had pursued a friendship with him, changing everything. Jean had hesitantly started sitting with Marco at lunch time from then on, where he was always made to feel welcome. Then one day, Jean had gone to the mall with his classmates -his first time seeing them outside of school, nervous about whether or not they’d accept him, and Marco had turned around with a beaming smile and an outstretched hand, a glowing halo and blooming flowers surrounding him, instantly taking him in as a member of his squad. Marco would never know how much that’d meant to him. From then on he’d never had to feel insecure about his friends again, they’d go everywhere together, do everything together, talk about anything with each other.

“Jean! You’re Jean, right? Embarrassingly Keen Jean? We went to school together! You were that loser we always made fun of. I remember whenever my friends and I had lunch together, you tried to sit with us at the cool table, and we’d always have to get up and leave or tell you to leave. Remember when we poured hot coffee down your pants ahahahah? And we’d crack raw eggs on your head? Oh man, and when we brought some strong-smelling raw fish from the market just so we could stuff it down your shirt and force you to keep it there all day? Oh yeah, and that time we all hung out at the mall without telling you, and you overheard us or something, and followed us. I grabbed your hand and led you into an Ann Summers store, where we left you as the rest of us ran away ahahaha. And then, like, you just wouldn’t leave alone, no matter how mean we were to you, and how much we tried to get rid of you. We used to steal your clothes while you were in the shower after PE and Coach used to force you to walk around in a towel all day. Then we spread rumours your penis was so small, it was the size of a marble, and none of the girls would go out with you. Once we even locked you in the school bathrooms and you almost died or something. But whatever we did, you either didn't know it was us or didn't care. So we just kept you around as the embarrassing clown we could laugh at,” Marco’s cruel words were said with a light, easy tone. Clearly, to him, Jean had been nothing more than a laughing stock. 

Kurapika’s expression fell into a frown. 

“HAHA!” Armin screamed, pointing at Jean tauntingly. Hearing Marco’s story seemed to do wonders for Armin’s emotional recovery after watching his house get destroyed for the second time. 

“It  _ was  _ pretty funny,” Marco lit himself a fresh cigar, hand resting casually on Gon’s fishnetted upper thigh. 

Armin started jumping up and down with excitement, clapping his hands, the shit in his trousers squidging around audibly, the friction spreading the forbidden scent around. “YOU’RE SO LAME!” Armin shouted, “NOW KURAPIKA WILL WANT ME INSTEAD OF YOU!”

Jean didn’t rise to the bait, standing silently with his lips pursed in either embarrassment or shock. 


	9. Contemplations

Later, Kurapika pointed Armin to his metre squared spot on the floor. Within moments the boy was asleep. 

Kurapika turned out the windows to open them - for some reason the smell of shit was still lingering, Kurapika just couldn’t figure it out - but ALAS. he didn't have the time to think about the lingering shit-scent at that moment. 

Jean stood beside the grimy window, staring out at the poverty-stricken lands and the nightlife of the red light district. His mitre hat stood tall on his head, his arms crossed under his loose robe sleeves. He was clearly mentally preoccupied, expression both blank and downturned. 

Perhaps being empathetic would make Jean think the wrong thing. But at the end of the day…what Marco had done and said was cruel. The man was a monster. And Jean had wanted so much for his highschool friendship to be true that he memorialised Marco’s memory by starting a religion. The mans was clearly exceedingly soft-hearted - and today he hadn’t just lost Marco all over again, perhaps in a more painful way than his death. 

Kurapika placed his palm between Jean’s shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” he muttered in a low tone so as not to disturb the angsty tone of the night. 

Jean blinked a few times and then sighed. “I apologise, fair maiden. I didn't mean to disrupt you. Get some sleep.”

“You need to sleep too...especially to get the energy to deal with Armin tomorrow.”

Kurapika had expected for his comment to make Jean chuckle, or at least smile a little. But his expression never shifted. 

Kurapika wasn’t used to Jean being like this. Jean was the happy-go-lucky one, the eccentric one, the man who evaded any sense of normality and who always somehow seemed to have a reason to pursue Kurapika in the most jovial and forward way possible, regardless of how many times Kurapika had snubbed him. And most of those times Kurapika had hardly been polite. But Jean didn’t even show that it bothered him, merely redoubling his efforts. 

Kurapika felt useless. 

“Would a hug...make you feel better?” the only card Kurapika had left was Jean’s obsessive, creepy, and annoyingly flattering crush on him. 

Jean’s lips tightened. “Don’t pity me, Kurapika. This is nothing.”

Kurapika’s hand dropped from Jean’s back and he swallowed down an embarrassing sensation. “Then come to bed. Please.”

“I suppose since you asked for what made this a mere drop in the ocean of disappointments regarding my lyfe, i have no choice but to disclose my entire life’s story to you.

“It all began many years ago. I was a smol humble boi. My parents had always wanted a boy, but when i was born they didn't like me as their idea of ‘son’ was synonymous with aged ideas of masculinity. I think the breaking point was when my father took me fishing and tried to drown me, telling me it would make me more at one with the fish. To be in the fish’s mind would help me when it came to fishing, my father would say.

“But that was when i realised that things weren’t quite right, because he left me there for what he thought was dead. Joke’s on him though,” Jean chuckled humourlessly. “Another father-son duo was fishing at that exact time. They accidentally caught me in the water and fished me out on their rope. They tied me up for eating, as they too mistook me for fish - i don't think they were very knowledgeable of a fish’s anatomy. I managed to use my nimble fingers to escape their grasp, fingering them until they passed out from the pleasure. I escaped and made it back to my city. I had nowhere to go, my family would not take me back, I knew that much. I tried to find a place for myself at an orphanage but they politely told me they were at full capacity, and they didn’t take fish-boys in anyway. I tried my luck at a random stranger’s house, hoping for kindness, but it was the wife and mother of the father/son duo who had wanted to eat me earlier. She shouted something to them, instantly recognising me, and they came rushing out, begging me for another orgasmic round of fingering. I ran away and made a home for myself underneath a bridge. For a moment i considered taking on the vocation of sex worker, as it seemed like my fingers were the only tool at my disposal to make anyone feel happy. But then I decided to enroll in high school, as they tell you education is important. I paid the tuition with my fingers, and by that I mean I forged my parent’s signatures. I was not accepted by my peers because of my ‘status’ and ‘fishy appearance’. They called me ‘Keen Jean’ mocking my eagerness, unwilling to understand why I needed their - anyone’s - acceptance so much. And then Marco was kind to me. Or so i thought anyway, I mean you heard what happened there aha. Filled with a newfound sense of motivation, I was determined to make something of myself. This was only short-lived however. My motivation died as rapidly as my drowning, by that I of course mean it took a long time to wane and it was both painful and I had to live through every tortuous moment of it. Have you ever been drowned? My lungs still ache whenever I breathe, a phantom feeling from so long ago that will stay with me for eternity. When I realised there was nothing in particular I was especially good at. Except singing, of course! But we all know the odds of making it as a singer in this cruel world.

“For years I walked the streets as a quasi-nomad, wandering to find a home for my heart. I never lived in one of those sickening cardboard boxes, instead choosing to occupy a house at knifepoint, relying on the handouts of those from the richer sectors. Of course at this time we were still rampant with titans, we didn't understand them back then. I searched and searched for a reason to exist, something to still my wandering nomad heart. For many years I suffered with an insufferable fright of both water and fish, not particularly desirable considering the main source of food within Wall Maria was of course fish. 

“Then Marco passed at the vile hands of Sexi Titan Eren; his death was like a ray of light, a miracle if you will. I finally knew what had to be done. If no one would like me for my lack of skills then they would have to acknowledge me for my affinity for good sanitation and toilets. It helped that I was a late bloomer and came into my dashing good looks and dastardly handsome side in my later teens. But by that point I was committed to Lord Marco and lived as a virgin in his memory.

“But now…” Jean stilled for a moment, eyes shifting over the scene outside. “Now Marco is still alive, and I have no reason to stay flowered. So, fair maiden, if your invitation to bed was actually an invitation for something else, I accept.”

Kurapika cleared his throat. “I - I’m sorry to hear all of that…” Wow, Jean was highkey lame. Still a virgin? Though Kurapika was slightly curious, a natural curiosity if you will. If an entire family had screamed for Jean to finger them, they were either exceedingly desperate or Jean was phenomenal with his fingers. 

“Let’s sleep,” Kurapika said instead of a ‘no.’

Jean sighed. “Yes, fair maiden. Let’s.”


	10. Secrets of the Hot Springs

Kurapika was glad to be rid of Armin’s cardboard box. Carrying his house around was tedious. Kurapika kept all he needed in his pockets - many-a article of clothing for ANY foreseeable event, a cheeky tent, some condoms, his many weapons, his maps, a bottle of massage oil, a tube of water-based lube, a book about geldings, a notebook in which he wrote all of his thoughts and feelings about the Uchiha massacre, photographs of his family - though none of them were in particularly good condition, sections torn and frayed off. But alas he had many other things he kept in his pockets too, and he never felt over encumbered by the burden. Not until armin’s dumbass cardboard box, at least.

To Kurapika’s knowledge Jean carried nothing under his priest robes. The man just walked around with his hands crossed under his sleeves and his mitre hat set on his brow. How very humbling. After the revelation from the day before Kurapika was just glad Jean was still staying true to himself. So what if the cult - oh whoops, CHURCH of Marco was just a figment of Jean’s imagination? It provided toilets and sanitation to the poor, a truly selfless endeavour.

Kurapika had woken armin up that morning by nudging his torso with his toes. Rolling the boy’s body over revealed a disgusting smell, one Kurapika was only too ready to run away from. For some reason Armin refused to shower, muttering to himself about a ‘hatched egg,’ ‘lost proteins,’ ‘watery with a chance of sweetcorn’ and many other bizarre things. Humouring the boi would just result in a rabbit hole of a conversation, far too much suffering for any single soul.

“TOOTHBRUSH?” Armin had gasped in absolute surprise when handed one by Kurapika, “A TOOTHBRUSH!”

“Yes. Now-”

“Oh my GOSHHH it’s been so LONGGGG my father Hisoka taught me how to use these YAYYYY om nom nom-”

Kurapika stared in wonder, “Are you eating it?”

“MINT MINT MINT!” Armin cheered, plastic spraying out of his mouth. “Daddy Hisoka neverrrr let me have these! I love it here!”

It took a fair while to get onto the road again - Kurapika had to pay Gon for the extra time they spent, though perhaps it was for the best considering how much Armin had to learn. Brushing his hair, washing his face, and taking off his socks were some of the few things that he had clearly never been taught. Kurapika even had to instruct him on how to properly brush his yellow teeth, which was especially difficult because Armin kept swallowing the toothpaste. His breath smelled terribly foul of course, with countless cavities to be seen. When Kurapika had asked why he never went to the dentist, Armin had just looked at him confused, and asked why anyone would go to a dentist. Truly, hygiene was a lost cause.

“The church should have taken better responsibility to teach you this, Armin,” Jean said solemnly, “Though apparently you somehow had enough knowledge of sexual kinks considering your taste in pornography.” 

It was around midday when they stumbled past a very inviting sign: ‘Hot springs 100 yards ahead! Beware Edward Cullen, he likes to watch people bathe!’ there was a picture next to the sign of this ‘Edward Cullen’- a very pale guy, whose skin sparkled, with intense eyes that no one wanted watching them. They all shuddered, what a creepy stalker indeed.

“Will you be able to walk 100 yards without needing the toi-toi” today Armin had decided to refuse to acknowledge the word toilet “or any other amenity which will make this journey even longer?” 

Armin rocked on the balls of his feet, “Nooooo PROMISES Crap-pika!!!” Armin cheered. “I shall try not to pee or poop, but if my legs get tired -”

-

Armin waited til Kurapika was already in the water before he started getting undressed. He didn’t need another lecture - Kurapika was pretty and all but jeez with the nagging. To think that Armin couldn’t even go to the toi-toi in peace without someone on his case about ‘washing hands with soap’. He was sure this much shit in his trousers would trigger Kurapika much more than the hands. He had needed to go to the loo again about an hour ago but figured he might as well just do it in his trousers since they’d already had shit in them. It was getting a bit hard to walk with all the mush in his pants but no-one had seemed to notice his waddling. 

He glanced over Kurapika, who had his eyes closed and muscles relaxed as he lay in the hot water. With a careful look around to make sure Jean wouldn’t suddenly appear, Armin ripped off his clothes, discarding his top and jeans on the floor of the changing room. The jeans held most of his shit, but there was still a substantial amount of brown muck clinging to his ass. Still waddling lest he dislodge some of his precious cargo, he made his way over to the hot spring, sighing in contentment as the water sloshed against his body, letting it wash away every unclean crevice of his body. This, of course, included the shit on his ass and down his legs. 

The first thing Kurapika noticed was the colour of the water. What had been crystal clear at first was now murky brown like disgusting swamp water. He frowned, what could make the water look like this? He was about to ask Armin if he’d noticed it too, but Armin had his eyes closed as he leaned against the side of the spring, completely oblivious to anything. Kurapika frowned, he knew tap water went brown when a pipe corroded, but that wasn’t possible for a hot spring. And then the smell hit him. He immediately jerked up, gagging at the putrid scent. What was that? What on earth could smell so vile? Armin didn’t seem to notice; he was perhaps asleep. For Kurapika, however, the repulsive odour was too much to bear. Was there a dead animal somewhere? No, not even a dead animal would reek this much. 

Jean, still fully clothed, paced up and down the changing room, struck with a moral dilemma. He thought of his beautiful fair maiden laying naked in the hot springs, her gloriously toned, glistening, body strewn against the rocks. He had to adjust his collar and his X-rated parts, fanning himself with his hand. He felt it were completely inappropriate to join the siren, considering she was a woman and of course he was at threat of showing something wildly naughty. He couldn't control his body’s urges, regardless of how much he asked the Lord Marco for guidance and patience on the matter. 

“Lord Marco,” Jean hummed, stopping his pacing by a pile of discarded clothing, “Please make my hard parts softer so as not to make the beautiful lady Kurapika uncomfortable. She is my ray of guidance and calms the raging mania of my thoughts, particularly since my recent discovery of you not being real. I-” 

It had taken a couple of moments, perhaps for the putrid odor of the wet sludge to diffuse into the air over which Jean was praying. But Jean’s eyes opened in alarm. What he thought was an unassuming pile of discarded clothing was actually something far more treacherous. 

Jean’s face fell, pale - he took multiple steps back, stumbling over himself and falling to the floor;

“No,” he repeated on repeat, gasping, his brow sweating, mitre hat jaunty from the alarmed wrinkle of his brow, “No. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO---

“KURAPIKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--

“FAIR MAIDEN! FAIR MAIDEN!”” Jean stumbled blindly out of the changing rooms, terror-stricken, palm placed over his eyes so as not to compromise his maiden’s modesty as he struggled to reach her as quickly as possible, “GET OUT OF THE WATER! YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE WATER! THERE’S SOMETHING IN THERE! FAIR MAIDENNNN-”

“Jean? Jean, it’s me. What is it, uncover your eyes would you? You'll hurt yours-”

“I apologise for my rudeness my radiant sunflower, my elixir of life, the source of all my happiness and my reason to be - BUT YOU MUST EVACUATE THE HOT SPRINGS! NOW! Please, i shan’t watch, feel free to take my arm for stability - here, here, my eyes are shut, I’ll remove my robe you can wear it so you don’t get cold i have my back-up on underneath-”

“Fine, fine, don’t panic, i’m out,” Kurapika had used Jean’s arm to steady himself while walking over the slick rocks, and Jean immediately pulled Kurapika between the opening of his robe and wrapped the remaining cloth over his back so Kurapika wouldn’t get cold. 

Jean was of course NOT being perverted, but he contemplated that it was perhaps safe to open his eyes now Kurapika’s body was all covered up. He’d never expected to touch Kurapika’s body quite so soon, though he was surprised by the lack of breast on his maiden. Where normally there would be pudgy mounds of fat, Kurapika’s chest was solid, boney, probably muscular too. Jean couldn’t feel it THAT well, jeez. 

But Jean had never been a breast man. In all actuality, he’d never been an anything man. He’d sometimes wondered what his tastes were, though he was too occupied by the church to spare attention to matters of the heart. Though he knew now that he was a Kurapika man, and anything Kurapika was Jean was a HUGE fan of (huge was limited to around 7 inches).

“What’s wrong?” Kurapika frowned, kinda annoyed at the way Jean clung to him. He pointedly wiggled away from him a bit, ready to reprimand, when he caught the priest’s expression. He hadn’t seen Jean so worked up before. With his dilated pupils, the wild expression on his face, and his panting, something was clearly wrong. It was as if he’d seen a ghoul from Tokyo or something. 

“I - I -” Jean was stricken. First it was with shock. But then he found himself staring into Kurapika’s crystalline blue eyes, the concerned wrinkle in Kurapika’s brow, the curve of her wonderful mouth. 

“Jean,” Kurapika had never seen Jean so speechless before!

“There - there’s something in the water. Something, i - i can’t -”

Armin lay backward in the hotspring, staring up at the sky, buoyant and paying ZERO attention.

“What is it? Jean, what is it?” The worry in Kurapika’s tone...Jean would do anything, yes ANYTHING to make that go away…

“Fair maiden. I don't know how to tell you this. I - i -”

“JEANNNNN!” Armin shouted from the water, “GET OFF KURAPIKKAAAAAA, HE’S MINNNNNEEEEEE!” Armin waded toward the pair.

“OH JUST SWIM THERE AND PINE, WHEN I TELL HIM WHAT YOU DID-”

“SHUT YOUR LID!!!”

“YOU DON'T HAVE A CHANCE, KID, COUS OH WHEN I TELL HIM, OH WHEN I TELL HIM - YOU’RE DOOOOONNNNEEEE!”

“JUST LET ME GET THIS OUT OF MY POCKET - IT’S MY GUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!” Armin yelled, violently finger-gunning Jean with a serious crinkle to his brow.

“NOW LISTEN TO ME YOUNG’UN, COME CLEAN, I’LL TELL IF YOU WON’T, SAVE YOURSELF FROM THAT UNGODLY SCENE-” Jean’s arm and robes were still securely covering Kurapika’s dripping body.

“Touch MY PEEN!” Armin stood in the brown water, though it stayed at waist height and hid his ‘peen.’

“ONCE AGAIN YOU ACT LIKE A CHILD, COMPLETELY RUNNING WILD, NO INHIBITIONS NO CONTROL, I FEAR FOR YOUR HUMANITY AND YOUR SOUL,”

“I DONT KNOW HOW YOU KNOW BUT KURAPIKA’S MY GOAL, YOU LOOK LIKE A TROLL, PRIEST JEAN YOU’RE TOO GOOD FOR THIS PLS DON’T CONDEMN MY SOOOUUUULLLL-”

Jean gasped in anger, “WHEN YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT IT SOUNDS LIKE I OWE YOU - BUT IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU NEVER LEARNT HOW TO HOLD YOUR-”

“NOOOO-” Armin screamed, just as Jean finished,

“POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Kurapika flinched, “Wait, what? What’s this about? What’s going on?!”

“NOTHING DEAR KURAPIKA, I PROMISE I NEVER CRAPPED-IKA-” Armin shouted desperately, wading out of the water with a streak of brown water tailing him,

“HE’S LYING - OH HE’S LYING - WITHOUT AN OUNCE OF GUILT HE’S LYING, DYING - OH DYING, HIS INTEGRITY IS DYING, WATCH HOW THE WATER BEHIND HIM IS DISGUSTING,”

Armin did a quick 180 in the water, trying to see what Jean was referring to-

“ALL THAT FECAL MATTER IN HIS TROUSERS WAS CRUSTING, CLUMPS OF BROWN TURDS CONGEALING-”

“tWAS NOT A NICE FEELING!!” Armin shouted desperately,

“WORSE THAN IN ANY TOI-TOI EVER, OH ARMIN YOU ARE MOST CERTAINLY LESS THAN CLEVER, IN THE BROTHEL THERE WERE SHOWERS, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN RID OF THE EVIDENCE LONG AGO, SO MANY HOURS-”

“JEAN YOU SIMPLY MUST TRY IT, I SHAT MY PANTS ON THE WALK OVER, TWAS FRESSSSHHHHHHHHH-”

“Is this real?” Kurapika winced in disgust, “Please say this is all a joke. I beg you.”

“I’M SO SORRY FAIR MAIDEN, I PROMISED TO PROTECT YOU, THIS IS WHY MY VISION AS A PRIEST WAS TO ERECT MANY-A-LOO, I SHOULD HAVE FIGURED OUT ARMIN’S AGENDA LONG AGO, I KNEW WHAT HE WAS CAPABLE OF AND YET I STILL HELD HOPE, LIKE A FOOOOLLLLL-”

“It’s okay,” Kurapika said with disgust, “I don’t blame YOOOOOUUUUUUU-”

“IT WASN’T ME, WASN’T ME, WASN’T ME, WASN’T ME-” Armin sang on repeat,

Jean overlapped his voice, “THE HOT SPRINGS ARE ALL BROWN NOW, LOOK AT KURAPIKA’S FROWN NOW (please don’t cry please don’t cry) YOUR POO HAS BEEN DISSOLVING IN THE WATER, PERHAPS THE WORST BATH BOMB, I WOULDN’T WISH IT ON ANYONE’S DAUGHTER-” 

“WASN’T ME, WASN’T ME, WASN’T ME-”

“WE CAN SEE IT IN YOUR DISCARDED TROUSERS-”

“WASN’T ME”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN TAKE ANY SHOWERS-”

“WASN’T ME”

“KEPT IT THERE FOR SOOO MANY HOURS”

“WASN’T ME”

“Armin please just tell me-” as much fun as the duo were having with their singing, Kurapika had never felt more nauseous in his lyfe. He’d literally been swimming in Armin’s shit, a shit-soup, and he probably smelt like it too.

“NO I GOTTA PEEEEEEE-”

“Be serious for once now,” Kurapika tried to appeal.

“WASN’T ME WASN'T ME”

“WILL YOU PLEASE STOP THAT YOU SOW,”

“I HAVEN’T TRIED PIG IN SO LONG AND YOU’RE MAKING ME HUNGRYYYY - WHY DON’T YOU FEED ME?!?!?!” Ar-MONEY sung in anger.

Armin seriously made Kurapika want to cry.

“I’m going to go shower, I’m pretty sure my hair is now a shade darker, all that swimming in Armin’s faeces isn’t for meeeeeeee-”

“Crap-pika and MEEEE,” Armin sung in a mellow tone.

“NO!” Jean shouted, “KURAPIKA AND MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”


	11. Enlightenment

For Armins punishment Kurapika bequeathed that Armin would not be allowed to shit for an entire week.

Twenty minutes in, Armin’s hair still dripping from the hot springs, the homeless boy started tensing his facial muscles and grinding his teeth. It didn’t take Kurapika too long to realise that the boi was straining to hold in his poop.

Interesting.

“Oh look! A ramen truck! Smells delicioussssss...tell me chef-Sensei, what is your ramen of the day?” Kurapika asked with exaggerated interest.

“Chicken. Chicken, fresh peas, my special chicken broth, and noodles that me and my waifu make in our home, a recipe passed down from generations. It’s delightful and refreshing. Here have some. Take it! Take it! Okay I’m sorry I’m sorry I know I get instead sometimes it’s just so - I’m just so -“ the man wipes at his tears and sniffed, “I just love cooking so much, and feeding people, especially beautiful people like you. You remind me of my waifu when she was your age, you and that kind priest remind me of myself and her on our first year anniversary. You have that sense of familiarity about you two. And who’s this blonde boy, is he your brother? Are you okay, son?” The man asked Armin curiously, looking a little creeped out at Armin’s strained body.

“He’s fine. Don’t bother with him,” now used to the comparison between his and Armin’s appearance, Kurapuka no longer had a shite to correct everyone, “that sounds delicious though. We’d like three servings of your ramen, here keep the change.”

The man seemed v happy w the extra money, and wished Jean and Kurapika good luck for their future endeavours. “Your children will be very beautiful,” he said, “Graced with both of your fine features and manners.”

Kurapika bowed his head in thanks and Jean tried to subtly wipe away a tear. “A humble man,” he muttered, “a kind, wise man. Here, take a lock of my hair. I have nothing else to give you.”

The food vendor winced when Jean dumped the lock of his hair into the bubbling vat of ramen, contaminating it all; Kurapika had already turned away with all three of the ramen bowls balanced over his arms, Armin waddling behind him.

“Oh Armin?” Kurapika enquired with EVIL in his tone, “You’re not eating. Why aren’t you eating? It’s delicious. “

Jean nodded, “it certainly is. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything quite so delicious, even at Marco’s wake.”

“I - I-” Armin stuttered, “I - but my tummy - hurts -” Armin whined, “Please Kurapika, i need to poooooo-”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to shit your pants TWICE and then force me to bathe in your excrement,” Kurapika said dryly.

Armin sniffed, teary, “It smells sooooo good oni-channnnn-”

“Don’t call me that,” Kurapika snapped. “It’s not flattering. If i were your brother i would LITERALLY kill myself. To have your DNA…” he shivered.

Armin, who didn’t understand many of the words Kurapika had just said (DNA, flattering, and ‘I’), simply nodded along. He was trying to get back in Kurapika’s good books because regardless of his shit-stained hair, Kurapika was still a beautiful chappy.

Jean patted Kurapika on the shoulder gently. “There there, sweet maiden. He didn't mean to do it. If anything it is my fault for being distracted by the appearance of Marco. I should have followed Lord Marco’s teachings and taught Armin proper hygiene and how NOT to shit his pants. If i’d done my duty none of this would have happened, and your hair would be its natural radiant blonde instead of mousy brown. Regardless, your hair is still beautiful, if not a little disturbing.”

“Stop talking about it,” Kurapika hissed. “ARMIN, EAT YOUR GODDAMN RAMEN AND DON'T YOU DARE SHIT, ALRIGHT?”

Armin sobbed into his ramen, grabbing his chopsticks in a shaky grip and pulling some noodles toward him, “It - they taste so good,” he said, trembling, head tipped downward toward his bowl.

“It’s only been twenty minutes!” Kurapika snapped angrily. “Twenty minutes! Stop being so dramatic. You’ve lived in a cardboard box for so long, why are you refusing food anyway?!?”

“I - back in my box days,” Armin sniffed, “I used to eat Halo beauty vitamins for sustenance. I never went hungry, and I resent you for thinking so little of me!”

Kurapika stared at Armin, jaw locked in anger. “Don’t you dare speak like that to me again. I’m done with you, done with your shit, both literally and figuratively. If it wasn’t for my grandfather Tonpa asking me to find you and train you in the ways of the Uchiha - trust me, I wouldn't be.” At that, Kurapika slammed his bowl of ramen onto the makeshift-cardboard box table, broth yeeting everywhere, everywhere being onto his hand. Kurapika swore under his breath and stomped away, akin to a tantruming Armin but with a little more panache.

“Fair maiden!” Jean shouted after his womans, though Kurapika did little more than flick him off over his shoulder and keep walking into the distance.

Armin sniggered tearfully at Jean, sucking his snot back up.

“Let’s give her time to cool off,” Jean said with out of character wisdom. “Did she hurt your feelings? I suppose that’s the thing with courting a spitfire, you’re gonna get zings of heat now and again.” Jean mispronounced ‘spit’ as ‘spite’, a very fitting Freudian slip. He stared after Kurapika with adoration in his gaze, but he didn't allow himself too long to indulge in the glorious sight, turning to Armin.

Armin sniffed. “He did. I don't know how I'm going to hold in my poop for so long! I don't know! I can't even remember how to hold it in! The last few times I shat i shat my pants, and I’ve lived alone for so long that i normally just shat whenever and wherever and used a kitty poop scoop to clean it all up afterwards! Everyone in the cardboard box district does that, EVERYONE!”

Jean’s eyes widened. He never knew how bad the sanitation issues inside Wall Maria had gotten! This was why Lord Marco had sent him to spend time with Kurapika and Armin, to open his eyes to all of the toi-toi related atrocities plaguing the lands. Just the thought of Lord Marco made Jean’s chest sour. The marco who he’d decided to honour through religion had committed one of the most heinous crimes of all time - no, not genocide - but lying to his children. The man promised them milk, and where was it?! Lies, lies, lies - a foundational sin in Marcoism. And marco had lied and deceived everyone in his path, acting as if cows still existed within the Titan universe, acting as if he was only leaving for, like, fifteen minutes tops, etc etc.

“I promise you,” Jean said reassuringly, reaching for Armin’s hand. He quickly recoiled upon seeing the rim of brown around the blonde boy’s nails and getting a very disturbing flashback to the state of his discarded clothing from the pool, “Kurapika is only doing this for your own sake. This must be a key part of your training to access the power of the Uchiha clan. Don’t you want to be a Uchiha?”

“I don't even know what a Uchiha is,” Armin muttered. “I only agreed to this because I wanted Kurapika to do the splits on my dick. I didn't know he’d play so hard to get, totally not worth it.” Armin snapped his head up to meet Jean’s calm gaze, “But i’ve gotten this far, and i refuse to give up on him! I’ve technically gotten to second base, my shit has touched him! How far have YOUUUUU gotten!” Armin cackled at Jean, whose face paled.

Jean was now used to Armin’s general disgustingness. What truly disturbed him was his memory of the hot pools. He’d held Kurapika’s body against his shamelessly, opening his eyes even though he promised to keep them shut, holding Kurapika’s sweet feminine frame close even though he promised to conceal her nudity with the spare robe he wore. Disgusting! He was absolutely disgusting! He owed Kurapika an apology. He felt sick. Jean felt the tears simmer in his eyes - oh, he’d betrayed his fair maiden! He was disgusting, a despicable fool! He’d never forgive himself! “Excuse me,” Jean politely nodded his head at Armin, before leaving in the same direction as Kurapika.

-

Jean sat at the edge of the bathtub in the motel they were staying at. It had taken many a trip with the kettle to fill it up with boiling water. He could, of course, have just used the hot water tap but he needed the satisfaction of watching the water boil before his eyes. And now waves of heat hovered above the bathtub, the room becoming steamy as Jean stared down at the body of water. They used the kettle at the church for this purpose, and it felt nice to follow this tradition again.

He thought back, guilt-ridden, to when Kurapika had said to ‘come to bed’ and he had immediately assumed it was something sexual. How lecherous of him! He was willing to sacrifice his virtue and the fair maiden’s virtue! Ruining the both of them! DAMNING both their souls! Just because he had momentarily forgotten his faith. Nope, nope nope. The only way to redeem himself was to boil this sin away. Boiling the body and the mind. The pain would blind him from his sinful lust and punish him for his unholy thoughts. If he didn’t properly manage to cleanse himself while on the earth, to chop all the tumorous sin out of his system, he’d be damned to far worse when dead. He’d have to ride the Ferris wheel of hellfire for eons, followed by the roundabout of eternal swinging, and then the swings of eternal roundabouting. Water was simply the purest of all elements on the periodic table. The other elements were Earth. Air. Fire. H, Cl, O, Mg - they were all a myth created by Marcoism deniers. To heat water was to put the purest element at the mercy of fire, the closest one could get to hellfire while stuck on the mortal realm. It was symbolic. Water under fire, purity under pressure. And Jean would follow the same pattern to repurify himself.

Jean stripped off his Mitre hat, and then each piece of clothing, preparing himself for the torture he was about to subject his sinful body to, and then put his hat back on (he had only taken the hat off momentarily to take his shirt and vest off more easily, and the unitard he wore beneath both of those). He lowered himself in, wincing at the pain. When he’d sunk into the tub, the scalding hot water engulfed his body,

“OH - MY - MARCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” his voice wrought with pain, hiccups breaking his words as he tried to steady his breathing against his bodily response to scream, tears sliding down his face which was sweaty from the steam of the tub. Jean moaned like a dying animal, legs kicking, twisting his neck back and forth in an attempt to redirect his energy from screaming. “Marco!” He sobbed, “Marco! Oh, Marco,” his body was screaming to get out of the tub but he gritted his teeth, crying silently with his chest heaving from shallow breaths, his nose running, a cocktail of the  
heat and pain making his head foggy.

“How long?” Jean sobbed to himself, “How long in this bathtub to prevent eons of pain in the bathtub of hell?? The Ferris wheel, swinging roundabout, roundabouting swings. Oh Marco. I have so much left to learn from you!” Jean cried, “AHHHHH!! I - I -“

Spectral plumes danced over the bathroom tiles; Jean, in his pain and praying, Had his eyes screwed shut and didn’t notice them.

“Jean,” a booming voice spake. “‘Tis i. The true Marco.”

Jeans peeled his eyes open, “I - MARCO?!?”

The figure looked just like Marco, but with a monocle and aged olden timey clothing, the type in museums from a time before the Titans. He was all greyed out, like a ghost or a hologram - whatever they were aha wasn’t like the attack on Titan universe had THAT kind of tech - but the mans, The Marco, was CLEARLY otherworldly.

“The - the one true Marco?!?!” Jean gasped, sitting up in the bathtub, his pain still present but also very much forgotten.

“Yes,” the voice boomed, and uttered nothing else.

“It’s - it’s like the prophecy foretold!” Jean yelled in jubilation. “Jean jeanius the third foretold that there would be such a time when the Jeans would need each other the most. And when Jean needed Jean, the Jean would rise up from the sunset and strike a lightning bolt of pure ecstasy onto the Jean in need. I see it now! I see it all so clearly! It’s in my eye, it’s just there! It’s you! You’re the figure of all of the Jeans of the past, the Jeans in Marco’s form! They knew I would trust in your power as the one true Marco!”

“Yes, young Jean. Jean in need. You know what they say, a Jean in need is a Jean indeed.

“Oh - oh no, young Jean. Stop crying smol one...I love you...like a son…”

Jean snuffed, “I thought you had, like…150 of those.”

Marco frowned. “Perhaps my current earthly form does. But I am the one true Marco, I have no sons but simultaneously all children of the earth are my sons. Even the women. I do not discriminate. Everyone is my son, birthed from my hyperactive womb, suckling from my teat. I press each of you to my bosom and allow you to nurse, enjoying and soaking in all of your satisfied baby noises in a non-creepy fashion. You consume my antibodies, antibody of course being a metaphor for my spirit, and in this fashion I have touched all of my sons. You grind your toothless gums into my nipple and stare up at me with a wide child-like stare, eyes glazed with absolute satisfaction. I burp you, and you vomit a little onto my shirt (woven from 100% spiritual fibres) and I suck the vomit off my clothing, so a little of you will be inside me too. When your nappies fill with sin, I change you, give you another chance in life, a new, clean nappy, as I love you too much to not cleanse you and kiss your tummy as a reminder of that love,

“Young Jean, you have spent your time. Sweet child of mine. I remember holding you, how oh so sweetly you’d tease my nipples, how your eyes would ask for things your body couldn’t handle, and I’d give them all to you. Every single time. Sweet child of mine, young jean. I could never say no to you.

“So please. Gather your purified body. Right your hat on your brow. Robe yourself, with all the layers you keep concealed under your two robes. And go to your sweet male companion, Kurapika.”

“I - I can really get out of this boiling water now?!?” Jean cried.

“Young Jean,” Marco helps out his hand. “When I say rise...you RISE.”

Jeans legs trembled, slipped, and it felt like it took an eternity but eventually he righted himself in the bathtub. He stepped out, accidentally swiping his trembling his hand against Marco’s chest, the man moaned, his nipples sensitive from all the babies he’d forced to suck on them.

“If only,” Marco gasped, “you were 25 years younger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the one person that subscribed to this fic! I <3 you and you have officially subscribed to my heart


	12. The Melody of Madness

Kurapika opened the curtains dramatically to let in the sharp, blinding light of the morning sun. They had been staying at a quiet inn for the night that was in the middle of a forest, with a clearing ideal for today’s itinerary.

“Rise and shine

For it is time,” sang Kurapika, pulling the blankets off the sleeping Armin.

“There’s a man, a criminal

Worth a couple million dollars

If we capture him today

With that bounty, we’ll be ballers”, Kurapika grabbed Armin roughly by his hair, and yeeted him out of the window, Trunchbull-style. Armin woke up enough to scream and flail as he hit the hard ground, unfortunately there were no cardboard boxes there to soften his landing.

Kurapika was glad most of the impact was taken on by Armin’s spine. If he’d hit his head it would only result in even more brain-damage than he already suffered. This was the Sharingan training and bounty hunting that Kurapika had promised to teach him the ways of. The reason for this thus-far lamentable experience. With his visual prowess, earlier he had seen the target from a mile away, walking down a path that would lead him here, who should be arriving soon. Closer still, there was also a Titan around, coming the opposite way. The only way to teach this noob combat was to throw him right in the middle of action, that much Kurapika knew.

“Armin come i must teach you

The power of our eyes and what they do

The sharingan of the Uchiha clan

The most powerful jutsu known to man

Now burning red, let your eyes glow

Feel the power and let it FLOOOOWWWW,” Kurapika’s eyes shone luminescent red with the power of his Sharingan, wind rippling the curtains he was standing by and his mousy-brown shit-stained locks. Armin could do little more than look up at him from where he’d been yeeted out of the window, still laying on the floor, mesmerised by the raw power the beautiful boi was exuding. Armin wasn’t sure if he wanted to be him, fuck him, or just have a very close bond with him - perhaps a bond like two people sharing a womb at the same time might have. He could hear the thudding of his own heartbeat, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing as he stared up at the raw, untethered power of his future mans.

“Woah,” whispered Armin. He suddenly noticed a large Titan, strolling down the path in the forest, right behind Kurapika! And what made it even worse - it wasn’t even one of the sexi ones!!! Yeesh. The titan swung his giant arms and ominously whistled the tune of Zane Milk’s hit song ‘Marcotalk’. Ar-Money tried to give his bae a warning, but all he could manage were frightened squeaks, that cheeky little piglet x

“Reading your opponent’s every move

Knowing what they’ll do before they do,” the calm Kurapika jumped out of the way of the Titan’s incoming massive fist, dropping out of the inn window and beside Armin’s still-laying down body, and proceeded to easily dodge his swipes by using various dance moves, his back toward the Titan. The boi was clearly far more focused on singing than he was the Titan; regardless, the bounty was for a MAN, a criminal, not a distorted giant.

“The mighty power of our genjutsu

Your enemy’s every move controlled by you,” he stood on a tree branch to be level with the Titan, looking at him right in the eyes.

“Can that really be trueeeee?” cried Armin, still pancaked to the floor.

The titan looked hypnotised by Kurapika’s mere gaze, and within a fraction of a second he was subdued, helpless on his knees, like a small boy begging for money, he was begging for mercy, twas quite the emotional sight to see such a man on his knees. His knees had managed to land perfectly on Boobie Town cardboard box districts, crushing them with one fell blow. “Knees weak,” the titan cried mournfully, “Arms spaghetti, my mom’s sweaty -”

“So’s mine!” someone shouted from the cardboard box district. The mans was wearing a cardboard box, having cut out holes in one to make space for his limbs, “Or should i say she was ah ha i’m pretty sure you smooshed her in her box! Mum! Muuuummm! Please say that’s strawberry syrup and not blood! Actually i’ll just check let me give it a taste -”

“Amaterasu, the eternal fire

Gaze at something, watch it expire” within a second, the titan was engulfed in black flames, too dazed to even scream as his flesh incinerated.

“Protection by the Susanoo armour

Cutting your foes down like a barber,” his large, mighty purple armour with swords cut the burnt body of the titan into little pieces, making it look like barbecue tikka.

Armin’s tummy rwumbled.

“Guess somebody needs to call an embalmerrrr,” Ar-Money ogled the remains.

“All this and more

With our formidable Mangekyo visionn

Now Armin, come forward

It’s yoouur tuuurrrnn,” Kurapika lowered himself from the tree, standing before Armin, an encouraging hand reaching out.

Armin swallowed. He’d known Kurapika was strong but for him to be this insanely powerful? To effortlessly reduce a Titan to lunchmeat in mere seconds? He couldn’t help but be insanely frightened. Was it normal for a man to be so scared of his kawaii waifu? Armin adjusted his collar, both turned on and frightened, tbh since meeting Kurapika he was normally both at the same time.

“Kurapika, I don’t know if i can do this

I really, really need to piss,” cried Armin.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“NO!” Kurapika sucked a breath in, keeping his eyes closed as he counted to ten in his head.

“Armin just do it

You know you can

Activate the sharingan

And be a man!” Kurapika tried to keep the harshness in his tone to a minimum. He glanced up, to look for the criminal through the trees. Ten minutes away, he presumed.

“ Use it to see the enemy,” he encouraged.

“I don’t know how, can you teach meee?” Armin whined.

“I showed you before

I couldn’t teach you more;

I promise you, it all comes down to instinct

(oh damn you really stink).”

“Fine! now watch and seeeeeeee,” with that, Armin inhaled deeply, concentrating.

His nose scrunched, and his teeth ground together. Kurapika waited impatiently. He kept momentarily glancing at his watch, and sighing. Armin had gone from looking comical to constipated (painfully inaccurate, it was the second day of Armin’s punishment and when Kurapika finally allowed him to, he was sure all of his shit would come thundering out of his bowels like an explosive waterfall or a breaking dam ). It took all of Kurapika’s self-control to not scream at the dumbass. He had to keep reminding himself the boy was new to the Sharingan. But the man they were hunting for a bounty would reach this clearing any moment now.

“This, I didn’t want to mention

But think of what you call an eye infection,” It hurt Kurapika’s pride to liken the jutsu to pink-eye but it was necessary.

‘Eye infection, eye infection, eye infection’, Armin thought to himself, willing for the conjunctivitis - or Sharingan as Kurapika called it - to manifest. It worked like a charm. When he opened his eyes, they burned bright red. A gale of wind hit Armin at an inopportune time, his hair blowing into his face, infused with pollen, leading to a sneezing fit and making his alreddy red eyes redder, as well as moist, it felt slightly reminiscent of what his pants were like when they were lined with wet, gloopy shite.

Just at that moment, their target stepped into the clearing. The man that was a dastardly criminal, worth 1 000 000 berries, wore flowers in his hair, and twirled on his tippy-toes, stopping with a flourish.

“Hello there bois

Out for a stroll, I see

The skies are beautiful

Tis a good day to make friends, I see

My name is Uvogin

That’s U - V - O then gin

Without a doubt we’ll get along, I seeeee,” his deep, rumbling voice crooned.

He glanced up at them, then gasped. Twins? And one of them, he knew that face. Every petty criminal in the lands knew that face. The bounty hunter, Kurapika. The man with the red eyes no one could beat. He was known as the Conjunctivitis Criminal Chaser, the most dastardly and threatening bounty hunter. Don’t get fooled by his beauty, all of Uvogin’s criminal pals and his mother had told him. Many of his villain friends had been reined in by Kurapika. That poor sap, Merium, being the latest - he was legit the easiest million berried Kurapika had earnt. Uvogin’s eyes then fell on the other twin and he gasped. He couldn’t believe it. It was AR-MONEY!!! In the flesh. Uvogin didn’t know whether to act all badass, but a part of him couldn't stop the way his legs trembled and the high-pitched sound that yeeted out of his mouth.

“I can’t believe it, oh my gosh i simply cannot believe it,

Is this real, can it be true,

Is it possible - quite possible - that my life could be this lit???

Ar-MONEY, is that really you?!?!” Uvogin had tears in his eyes, he fell into a stumbled pirouette, his face scrunched up as he tried to hold back his tears.

“Armin he’s incapacitated

You’ve got this, use your red gaze,

Don’t look so constipated,

GET OUT OF YOUR DAZZZEEEE!” Kurapika sung calmly, trying to calmly give Armin confidence. Hopefully he’d teach Armin super quickly and be rid of him soon enough.

Armin faced the sky, sweety hands clasped together, “Marco, is that you?

Tell me what to do -

The beautiful Kurapka wants me to kill a man,

But he’s clearly a huge Ar-MONEY FANNNN!”

“I am, I am, i’m your biggest fan

Some may even call me a stan

To you i simp over

You’re my four leaf clover-” Uvogin.

“I don’t know what to do, oh what should i do?!?” Armin sang to the sky, worry creasing his face and making him uglier.

“Armin i have faith in you, don’t make all my efforts be for nought-” Kurapika’s hair spiralled sexily around his face in the wind, a stern and titillating expression on his face.

“Should i really hurt a fan, i’m not the sort-”

“Oh you fool, why did it have to be you?

You have no control of your bowels and always smell like poo,

Anyone, anyone could be the last Sharingan user -

Why did it have to be this loser?” Kurapika also appealed to the sky, his locks bouncing around his face when he shook his head.

“Tis an emotional conundrum,

Almost as big as the question: where do i come from?

Hisoka’s not my real dad -

It’s clear, unlike me he’s too much of a lad,

I feel guilty for watching his pornos,

They should be called por-yes’ as he looks very sexy in them-”

Meanwhile, Uvogin hopped on his feet and kept darting looks toward Ar-MONEY, simply trying to get a better glance of the man - he’d managed to get a live performance from his favourite boy! Though his thicc, chunky, rippling body didn’t make it look so, Uvogin was a very talented ballerina, and his feet naturally fell into point with his excitement as he hopped about and danced circles around the blonde and shit stained-brown haired boys.

“Sometimes i wish his career didn’t take off,

Cous when i was in my cardboard box i’d think about what he would look like with his shirt off,

Some people might think that’s weird because he’s my dad,

But he adopted me, it’s not incest, aren’t you glad?” Armin was now basically singing for his own amusement, still laying on his back, stomping his feet on the ground as he sang.

Jean darted OUT OF NOWHERE, diving out of some nearby bushes and hopping onto the corpse of the deceased Titan, “The power of song beckoned me,

Singing - it makes me feel so free!

Fair maiden, your eyes, your steely stare, the sense of fright about you -

It all makes my insides feel like goo!

Jeez, i cannot wait to marry youuuuuu-”

“Sometimes that priest Jean proposes to me,

Just yesterday again over a mug of ‘tea,’

I wonder where this fascination comes from

Soon I'm sure he’ll move onto the next one -” Kurapika.

“Oh sweet lady Kurapika,

There’s only you, my sweet lady Kurapika!

You are my eternal love, i knew from the moment we met,

Say yes to my next proposal, you shan’t regret

When i see you i feel an ache in my groin and my heart,

From you i refuse to ever be apart -

Your divine adam’s apple and your flat chest

How could I ever pay attention to the rest?!?!” Jean sung passionately,

“Please do not offend my affections by thinking them so fickle,

I’d only go so crazy for you, DON’T THROW THAT PICKLE!”

The previous cardboard box man stood sobbing over the increasing puddle of ‘strawberry syrup,’ clearly he did not appreciate the jovial singing happening about him as he weaponised everything in his reach.

“Don’t listen to him!

Sure, i may come from a bin -

It’s called character building!” Armin rapped,

“Character building!” Uvogin echoed in the background.

“When we first met and you knocked on my cardboard box door,

You saw all my incest pornos on the floor,

And people always say we look alike -

Ever heard of fate, baby boy?” Armin sung sultrily.

“Uh uh oh yeah, baby boyyyyyyy,” Uvogin, back at it again with the background singing.

“If you were my brother i’d die,

Commit the suicide!” Kurapika snapped back ferociously.

“I hate how you never say no to Jean!

Honestly - it’s really mean!

What’s he got that I have not??

Keeping us both around puts us all in a tough spot

Is it that he’s a priest, because if it is,

I’ll start a religion too, just to worship you!”

“Ar-MONEY, please,

I’ll get on my knees,

Don’t ever doubt yourself,

You’re an inspiration to hundreds, millions, including myself,

If there’s still an opening i’d like to make a suggestion-

Me plus you equals a romantic connection-” Uvogin was still dancing, his spiked hair jelled to immobility as he pranced around Kurapika and his undesirable harem.

“Uvogin i’m so flattered,

Ngl though you’re here to be battled,

I’ve heard you’re a criminal, is that correct?

And after looking at you - lets just say i have some self respect!” Armin sung in a stiff tone to the mans.

“Armin, at this point it might be a thought

To consider this man not as your opponent but as someone to court -

I’d rather you have someone else around to be your babysitter

Looks like he could handle you, he don’t seem like no quitter!”

“But lady Kurapika, what about the one million berries?” Jean sung somberly.

“A babysitter for Armin is priceless, no amount of berries,” Kurapika’s tone had turned opera-esque, the boi was clearly passionate about the subject matter.

“You seem like such a nice man

And clearly you truly are an Ar-Money stan

But my heart i cannot give you

I already have a waifu

And even if i didn’t, you look like a knob,

From you i wouldnt even accept a hand job,

Love is not so fickle

GIMME THAT PICKLE,”

The cardboard box man furiously shook his head at Armin. It was HIS pickle.

“I’ll take it from his weak pedestrian grip,

If i can just grab my peen and let it penetrate - just a dip---” Uvogin cut in, singing falsetto as he danced around Armin and the cardboard box man. He was like a shark, getting closer and closer to his target. A ballerina shark.

“Armin, either kill him or make him your mans,

It’s really not difficult to understand

It’s actually a pretty good deal,

You can get a pickle out of it, a solid meal-” Kurapika sung tiredly.

“A sexual pickle, just to clarify,

And I promise you i’m not actually a bad guy!” Uvogin added, gyrating his hips in time to his invisible music to bring attention to his bulging bulge. As it to happened very few people could decline an invitation to Uvogin’s pickle, nay not because of its size, but because of its rumoured ‘deformity’ which could do things that no man or woman could. This ‘deformity’ was of course simply a result of Uvogin’s father being a horse and his mother being a star ballerina player. Sure, she died upon conception, but like a parasite Uvogin burrowed his way out of her body, blood and sinew reddening his babie body, before he took off after his clip-clopping father.

“See, he actually wants to bone you!

Probably a world record considering how much you smell like poo!” Kurapika screamed.

“It only happened, like, twice,

Soon to be thrice, after eating all that ramen and rice

And i’m sure after a few more washes your hair will go back to blonde,

And we’ll look identical again, for now and beyond!”

“I would rather kill myself

Than resemble you,” Kurapika rhythmically seethed, teeth gritted as he splayed his arms out in grandeur.

“You’re lying to yourself

You know you like our likeness too,” Armin’s voice trembled as he held the final note.

“Let’s move on

I’m done with it all

Just take care of the outlaw

Whether it’s with love or death is your call,” Kurapika snapped savagely.

“Uvogin I thank you

For being an Armonizer

And when i sang today

Thank you for being my harmoniser

But I belong here with Kurapika

I hope you understand

Maybe if you were hotter

I would give you my hand,” Wind whipped around Armin, revealing parts of his face the wind previously concealed and making his ugliness more apparent.

Uvogin nodded. He had suspected as much. He was upset, but was what it was. At least he’d had this special day with his idol he could write about in his diary. When Armin wasn’t looking, he’d even pulled out a few strands of hair he was planning to add to his Ar-Money shrine.

“Well?” Kurapika’s tone was clipped; he was still annoyed he wouldn’t be rid of Armin just yet.

“Well?” repeated Armin confused.

“If you don’t plan to do him

Send him straight to hell,”

“Whether you’re serious or joking,

I really can’t tell,”

Kurapika’s glower eliminated any possibility that he was joking. Armin gulped and looked at the big, burly brute in front of him with the rippling muscles, who was at least twice Armin’s height. There was no way he’d be able to take this big guy down. He fleetingly wondered if Kurapika wanted him to fail and get killed - but nah, Kurapika wasn’t like that… was he?

Pickle-guy took a huge bite out of his pickle as he ogled the group with rapt attention, wondering what would happen next. This was like a live-action soap opera with opera singing, and here he had a front row seat to watch it. Sure, his mother ‘may’ have just died - with no body he had no confirmation - but he might as well make the most of his day, right?

Armin looked at Uvogin, squinting.

“Kurapika, it’s not working!

And besides that, my eyes are hurting -

I don’t want to stare at Uvogin anymore

He’s so ugly i feel sick to my core -” Armin sung, brow wrinkled in concentration as he tried to use his Sharingan.

“How do you think i feel when I look at you?

Always shit-stained, smelling like poo

Just last night i appealed to Marco,

Asked him for one request, can you guess what it is?” Kurapika seethed.

“For our love to be eternallllllllll-” Armin sung, just as Kurapika overlapped him:

“For you to drink HCllllll-”

Uvogin had stopped dancing so as to be more useful to his bby boi Ar-MONEY as a training subject. He’d never felt more flattered! But alas Ar-MONEY was too preoccupied with the hotter Ar-MONEY, their flirting squabble only made Uvogin jealous. The priest-man was on his knees, praying to the sky.

“Please Ar-MONEY, my body is to your disposal

I have a counter-proposal

Write me into your next song

And instead of having you play with my dong

I’ll let you use me to traiiinnnnnn!” Uvogin cheered.

Jean bounced up out of prayer: this is the sign he was asking Marco for “He’s accepting his fate of death,

Perhaps he is on the meth!

But alas I’m so happy to see

That none of this is un-lordly!

Marco couldn’t be more pleased

That an unholy criminal shall soon be deceased,”

“Thank you for your blessing

About your death I was really stressing

But now I shall let all my inhibitions go:

Boom pow! Fire! Here I GOOOOOOO!” Armin started to flick his fingers in Uvogin’s direction, prancing about him shrilly screaming “BURRRNNNN BITCH,

FEEL THE ITCHHH

THE UNGODLY POWERS OF THE UCHIHA CLAN

WILL BE ENOUGH TO OBLITERATE ANY MAN!” Armin screwed his eyes shut and held both his hands in Uvogin’s direction, slowly falling to his knees, his face scrunched up in concentration. His arms started shaking and he was gasping wildly.

“That seems like it’s taking a lot of energy little bro

If you need any help just let me know

I can lie down if that’ll make things easier

Just tell me what you need to make things easier,” Uvogin stood before Armin calmly, arms clasped across his torso as he watched the blonde-haired chap struggle on his knees. The man was a picture of serenity

Kurapika sung under his voice to Jean, “I’m waiting for him to notice

That to use the Sharingan one’s eyes must be open.”

“Kurapika, I’m trying!

Uvogin must be dying,

Isn’t that something burning i smell

Burning like the sinners in Hell,” Armin smiled to himself confidently, his eyes still shut.

Jean whooped, that was where the sinners belonged after all. Armin would be there too if he didnt stop reading incest porn and hitting on Jean’s lass.

“It doesn’t work with your eyes closed

You absolute moron

Now can you use what I’ve taught you

Kill him so we can move on,” Kurapika snippy tone indicated he’d long had enough.

Armin could sense that Kurapuka was at the end of his tether. It had only taken him the span of a few days to figure it out. But alas he’d finally gotten there, and he stood up and opened his eyes. He desperately hopped between his two feet, briefly looking at Uvogin who smiled in encouragement and put a finger gun to his head and pulled the trigger, sticking his tongue out in an amusing reenactment of how he’d look when deceased. ‘Go on,’ Uvogin mouthed, excited for Armin to learn the ways of the Uchiha.

“Aha you have some superhuman fire defense I see

But don’t you worry

For I am a powerful beast

And on your flesh I will soon feast!” Armin, now with his eyes open, still unable to do anything with them, decided to use the other weapon at his disposal… a steak knife left lying around by some picnicking cardboard box-ers. He grinned menacingly, an evil glint in his red eyes, as he took slow, steady steps (Hisoka had taught him to be careful with sharp things) towards his target. Unfortunately despite the all-seeing Sharingan at his disposal, he did not see the foot directly in front of him.

It happened almost in slow motion. Kurapika’s eyes were already shining red with the power of the Uchiha jogging through his veins. He knew what was to happen - and he parted his lips to prevent the fatal accident, but alas his voice refused to work, in his subconscious he wanted this all to happen. If it wasn’t for Armin he’d have Uvogin’s corpse slung over his shoulders right now, and he’d be on his way to a million big ones. He wouldn't be babysitting this monstrosity of a shitstorm.

Armin slipped over his own foot, sending himself face-first onto the ground at Uvogin’s feet. He screamed, feet thrashing on the floor, crying. He hadn’t even put his hand out to stop his fall, the silly dolt!

“This is why kids aren’t supposed to run with scissors,” Kurapika sighed. Jean, however, was pale-faced and shocked, clearly verging on panic.

Armin’s voice got louder as he cried, still laying face-first on the floor.

“Training day one, eh?” Uvogin said fondly. “Tell you what, I'll give you directions to a hospital. That looks like a nasty gash, little Ar-MONEY. Now-” Uvogin wagged his finger at Armin, who was staring up at him with tear-filled eyes, “Next time your good big brother takes you to train the skills of your clan, don’t bring tableware, got it?”

Pickle-man scowled. No one was singing anymore, all because of that ugly blonde guy. He ruined EVERYTHING.

Armin sniffed pitifully, hiccupping. He looked over his shoulder, “KURAPIKKAAAAA! KURAPIKAAAA!” He screamed, voice breaking. The man in question winced and covered his ears.

Uvogin stepped over Armin’s body and pulled out a pocket notebook, scribbling some deets down and ripping out the page for Kurapika. “Just mention my name, they’ll let you right on through. Should be free, i own the place,” he said in a lax tone before turning to Armin. “Till we meet again, lil’ bro. Try not to stab yourself too much. But if you do just go to one of my many hospitals, I'll fix you up for free. Anything for my lad Ar-MONEY.”

Kurapika walked over and kicked Armin’s side a couple of times, making sure to do so close to the wound to irritate the kid into sitting up and reducing his blood flow. As his self-inflicted stab-wound was above his heart, sitting up would be better for blood loss than laying down.

Only the handle of the steak knife was visible, the rest of it penetrating Armin’s virgin body.


	13. Enter A Balloon

CHAPTER 13

Kurapika took Armin on between 20-100 stakeouts over the next few months, they were so torturous he simply could not put a number to them. But Armin was still as inadequate as he always had been. The Sharingan didn’t seem to favour him. The amount of bounties they’d lost, they were going paycheck to paycheck, Just About Managing. 

Kurapika was tired of being around Armin, he was exceedingly high-maintenance. He did it only for Tonpa, the Uchiha clan elder, who requested Kurapika train up the last remaining Uchiha. Jean was both irritating and helpful over the repeated failed bounties, and had a way of procuring food even when having no money. 

“I am blessed,” Jean divulged to Kurapuka when he’d finally gotten the effort to ask, “By Lord Marco himself. He feeds us, bathes us, makes sure we have shelter, gives us the beloved toi-toi.” Jean’s eyes shone with adoration and admiration for his deity. Ever since Marco had appeared to him in that steamy, steamy bathtub, he’d been gifting Jean out of appreciation for his devotion. 

Kurapika has noticed quite early on in their journeying together that Jean did not carry money around. “It’s too materialistic,” Jean argued, “I give it all to the church,” he mentioned in a different conversation. Whatever the reason, Jean carried very few possessions, and though he was technically financially dependent on Kurapika, requested very little. He never asked Kurapika to buy him a single thing, and oftentimes through the ‘graciousness of Lord Marco’ - i.e. Jean’s unending and sincere prayers for the people around him - managed to get free food and gifts. Even when he didn’t, he was a decent enough barrier between Kurapika and the disgusting Armin, and was so infatuated by the toi-toi that he didn’t mind dealing with any Armin-related potty issues. 

Armin, on the other hand, demanded every single thing. Every time he noticed something at the market that he liked, regardless of how difficult to carry or how dumb it was, Armin would scream and cry until Kurapika relented and opened his wallet. Jean had tried and failed on multiple occasions to show Armin the way of Marcoism and the evil within material goods, but the blonde boy was just far too stupid. In some sense Kurapika pitied him - he’d been living in a cardboard box for so long, he must have struggled to procure these things himself. But his adoptive father was an international model and porn star, so why was Armin living in a cardboard box anyway? 

It was the end of another long Armin-filled day. Kurapika’s neck was stiff and he cracked his fingers in an attempt to relieve some of his tension. Jean was wordlessly carrying his bag as Armin trailed behind the pair, sobbing about something. He’d been exceedingly tedious that day, and Kurapika was close to murder. 

The one bounty Kurapika had told Armin to sit out on - and NO. The idiot couldn’t even do that. They needed the money, for Marco’s sake! Armin messed up the bounty by trying to ‘save the day’, and now the trio were penniless. And Armin acted as if he expected them all to sleep in a cardboard box together. Like, NO. Kurapika’s hair would go all frizzy and humid if he slept outside! He absolutely refused to!

So the trio were stuck walking through the night, hunger pains churning their stomachs. Jean was the only one excited by the possibility, likening it to the starvation period the third Marco went through when erecting the first toi-toi. He hadn’t eaten for a whole four hours so as to focus on the architecture of the magnificent bog, a bog which lasted a whole ten days before it broke due to technical malfunction. 

“Kurapikaaaaa I’m hungryyyyyy,” Armin whined, dragging his feet audibly and groaning with eerie step he took.

For the sake of his sanity, Kurapika stayed quiet. 

“Kurapikaaaaaa I’m tireeddddddd,” followed by “Kurapikaaaaa why did you burn my cardboard boxxxxx we could be asleep right nowwww,” a few minutes later. 

Jean whistled obnoxiously in a very transparent attempt to drown Armin’s voice out, clearly for Kurapika’s sake. Jean was more skilled in the patience department and seemed to have unending amounts of it for the blonde chap. 

“KurapiKAAAAAAAA!” Armin screeched, voice akin to the sound a vacuum cleaner made when it ate too much. 

Kurapika’s eyes shone luminescent with the Sharingan, he pinned his gayze on Armin and surrounded him with a ring of Sharingan fire, the dancing flames reflecting in his pupils. 

Jean swooned, palm to his forehead, his womans was just SO GORGEOUS, her entire sole carved by the hardworking hands of Lord Marco himself. He fanned himself; twas inappropriate to think of Kurapika’s beauty when the lady was so close to burning their other travelling companion, fuelled by her anger. But Jean just couldn’t stop himself!

Just then, in the moonlight, a balloon could be seen floating towards them. It was clearly a helium balloon for it to be so high in the sky. A plain, white one with a face drawn onto it.

“I want that balloon! Kurapikaaaa I wannnttt iiiiit,” wailed Armin, hopping up and down and stamping his feet in anger. Jean frowned at him disapprovingly. Balloons were not a vital part of life, and anything that was not vital was not acceptable in the simplistic Marco-ism life. Kurapika, on the other hand, was staring up at the balloon, recognition and - was that fear? - dawning on his expression. His distraction allowed the fire to extinguish at least. Clearly, the balloon was a more pressing matter. Upon realising the object of his fair maiden’s attention Jean relented that maybe taking the balloon with them was not the MOST grievous sin. Marco would surely approve of Jean bringing his beloved the balloon she so clearly desired. 

“Dammit, dammit, dammit,” hissed Kurapika, struggling to reach the balloon which bobbed JUST out of reach. 

Jean plucked the smiley face balloon and handed it to his fair maiden generously, a proud and loving smile framing his face, “Fair maiden, I believe you were looking for this?” just as he went to pass the balloon to Kurapika he let go of it, the helium-filled balloon rising out of their reach as helium things oftentimes did. 

Kurapika would have probably said something bitchy if it hadn’t been for the worry clearly troubling the young lad. He stared up at the white balloon which rose closer and closer to the moon. It appeared to be so far away it might as well have entered the o-zone, or whatever was left of it. Kurapika stared up at the disappearing object with a scowl.

“LORD MARCO, HEAR MY PLEA,  
THIS BALLOON IS IN MY FAIR MAIDEN’S DESTINY  
IT FLOATS AWAY INTO THE NIGHT  
PLS BRING IT BACK TO EARTH BEFORE IT GETS LIGHT!” Jean shouted into the night, arms widespread as he spoke to his deity in the sky. He fell to his knees with cries of ‘Marco, oh Marco!’

Just then the balloon - Ballooney, lets call him - encountered his mortal enemy. The o-zone. Ballooney had always dreamed of being an astronaut, the first balloon to explore space. He naively thought this was his chance. Oh, how foolish he was! His plush, soft body ricocheted off the o-zone; he had bounced off the only 1cm sqd part of it that remained! Just his luck! He wasn’t even surprised as he shook his head, letting himself fall back down to the mortal realm. This time when Kurapika reached for him he didn’t even put up a fight! His one dream, crushed. Dastardly o-zone! Ballooney cursed its very existence.

The balloon in Kurapika’s hand had red asymmetrical eyes, and a wobbly smile drawn onto it with markers. 

“Red eyes like the Sharingan,” Kurapika muttered seriously, more to himself than anyone else, “this is, of course, a message from… him. I was wondering when he’d get in contact. Honestly, I’m surprised he waited this long.”

Kurapika expertly untied the knot of the balloon with his thin, nimble fingers (this balloon was the trademark balloon of the sender, and one could not simply pop such an important thing). 

Armin gasped as the balloon let out all of the gas that had filled it. 

“You killed it! Murderer!” he shrieked. Kurapika didn’t even seem to notice Armin for some reason.

He fished out a receipt from inside the balloon, holding it up to the moonlight, with his Sharingan activated to read the code. 

“So you have found the other Uchiha  
And I see there is also a Messiah  
Come home to our village now, my sons  
I have waited for what feels like eons,” Kurapika read out loud. He felt dead inside, and this was reflected in his tone. He had guessed he would be asked to bring Armin back to the village, but had also hoped by the time a summons came, Armin would have accidentally or on-purpose ‘bit the dust’. Now, it seemed like he was stuck with this whiny bitch on another long journey. He wondered who in his clan could give birth to Armin. Probably someone like Danzo, an irredeemable idiot. 

Jean curiously gayzed at Kurapika’s face. His fair maiden looked incredibly stressed, who was it that had sent this note to her? Who could make the fearless, powerful young woman that was Kurapika look so shaken up? As if she could never disobey a direct order by them, no matter how much she hated it.

Jean expected Kurapika to only look so shaken up once ever in his presence, and that was after Jean had revealed his very well-endowed girth on their honeymoon and finally made love to Kurapika’s lithe and moaning body, pounding into her as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, her slim legs wrapped around him as Jean finally got to touch her wondrous thighs. He’d kiss his way up her legs, touch every inch of her body, make it so she’d never want for anything else; pleasure her and worship her so she’d always find her way back into his arms satisfied and loved on. Of course this thought existed in the very depths of his mind, when he watched Kurapika sleep or sometimes when he daydreamed while potty training Armin to avoid any unnecessary trauma.

Kurapika reread the note, brow creased as he appraised the text. He shook his head a little.

Armin was on his knees, cradling the corpse of Ballooney and wildly sobbing. He flattened out Ballooney’s face, staring into his red eyes. “My brother, what have they done to you?” he muttered solemnly, seeing his own red grieving gayze reflected back in Ballooney’s sharpied-on eyes. 

“Fair maiden,” Jean said with trepidation, “Might I ask what is troubling you so?” He was holding Kurapika’s bag limply with one hand, the other balled into a fist, expression mirroring Kurapika’s. He only ever wanted to see his fair maiden happy! He tried not to pray for ill will toward the sender of the message, but alas, he twas but only human.

Kurapika slowly folded up the note, pressing it into his breast pocket. “We have somewhere to be,” he said stiffly, and changed the direction of their journey accordingly. 

Armin gently lifted the body of Ballooney, perching Ballooney’s head in the crook of his elbow and muttering sweet nothings into his ear, trailing after Kurapika as he brushed his fingers soothingly over Ballooney’s forehead.

sendosenpai:  
hello baby bois  
pls comment and kudos this shitty story is already 75pgs long in my word document. I thirst for attention.  
xoxoxo sanpei


	14. Despondency

It took three whole weeks to get there. Kurapika refused any more leisure-breaks. Many nights were spent trudging in the darkness toward the mysterious sender of Kurapika‘s note. With Ar-MONEY’s previous bounty hunt sabotage Kurapika had No-MONEY; they couldn’t afford beds and had found a makeshift cardboard box to sleep in. Jean would always insist Kurapika use his arm for a pillow, and initially his fair maiden would refuse but by the end of the first week she stopped even noticing when she shifted onto his arm in her sleep. 

Jean was troubled by how troubled his fair maiden was, but she refused to tell him what the tea was and he knew that asking twice would make her more irate than she was. 

Even Armin seemed to have calmed down, preoccupied by his newest family member. Oftentimes Armin could be found muttering to the balloon, holding it up in the air in the classic Lion King pose whenever something interesting appeared in their journey, and tucking it to bed between his arms. Twas a miracle that the balloon’s face didn’t smudge off, though Jean was sure twas just Lord Marco answering his prayers. 

-

Kurapika and Jean were asleep in the cardboard box, curled up into each other as they always were. Armin sat outside with Ballooney by his side, staring up at the stars. He was so glad he had Ballooney by his side. For the first time in a long time, Armin felt complete. He checked to see that Ballooney was still comfortably perched against his rock tower, staring over Ballooney’s delectable form. 

Armin gayzed into Ballooney’s shimmering red eyes, seeing that insurmountable sorrow within them. He felt his heart beat rapidly increase at the depth of feelings he could see within this balloon. That black, wobbly smile so full of hope and childlike innocence, untarnished by the cruelty of the world. Ballooney looked up at Armin with a shy disposition, and a questioning expression. Armin found himself leaning in slowly, unable to control himself. “Say no if you want me to stop,” he whispered breathily into where the balloon’s ears would be if someone had drawn ears on it. He pressed his lips against the sharpie-d mouth, gently at first, then giving into his animalistic desires, moving his lips fiercely against the rubber of the balloon with indescribable urgency and passion. His tongue traced Ballooney’s lips, his teeth nipped slightly at its ‘chin’. Armin shivered, he’d never felt so alive. He returned his lips to Ballooney’s once more, nipping at them gently so as not to split the rubber of his fragile skin, rubbing up and down the sides of Ballooney’s face. Would it be too forward if he tried to blow Ballooney? Return him to his curvaceous body and feel the full glory of their titillating exchange? Armin moaned at the thought, pressing his lips back onto Ballooney’s for more, more, MOORRREEE! The taste of Ballooney’s sharpie lip balm, the matt grittiness of his flesh, his tantalising rubber smell; Ballooney invaded each one of Armin’s senses. Armin groaned at the thought of Ballooney invading HIM - but with Ballooney deflated, he wasn’t sure how he could do that...and he was too busy, couldn’t pull his lips away from Ballooney’s, not now, not ever...

“Armin? Armin?” 

Armin ignored the speaker, flicking Ballooney’s lips with his tongue, sucking on them in a way that only fuelled his desire. 

“Armin! Unholy swine! Get - off - that - latex!” Jean said in a thundering tone, trying to scare Armin back into his virgin-cavern. But alas, it was too late. The things armin had done to ballooney - the things ballooney had done to him - could never be reversed. Armin would remember Ballooney’s tender and succulent embrace for the rest of his days, he could only hope for what tomorrow would bring. 

“FOR MARCO!” Jean shouted, grabbing for Armin’s hair and forcefully pulling him off Ballooney. “I REFUSE TO LET YOU TOUCH THAT BALLOON! It was Kurapika’s gift, how dare you sully it with your disgusting shit-eating mouth!” Lord Marco would be turning in his spectral location. Disgusting, foul. Lord Marco’s no.1 rule: don’t engage with a boy you don’t intend to marry! This ofc also applied to girls, otherwise Jean’s sweet lady Kurapika and himself would be stuck in eternal damnation. It was clear from the sexual passion of his kiss that Armin had no intention past using Ballooney for his own pleasure and then ditching the boi. And given he was latex, it was hardly like Ballooney could advocate from himself or his relationship with Armin!

“It was only once!” Armin cried, trying to scratch Jean’s wrist so he’d release his grip, his scalp burning painfully from Jean’s grip on his hair, “And I told you, I thought it was expired chocolate from ten years ago, the day my father Hisoka randomly gifted me a hotel favour! It was so nice of him, I planned to keep that gift to my heart forever!”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN REALISE IT WAS SHIT UNTIL KURAPIKA TOLD YOU THAT THE PELLET-LIKE CONSISTENCY AND THE GOAT STANDING OVER IT WITH ITS LEGS SPREAD, SHITTING, TWAS CLEAR WHAT IT WAS!” Jean shouted, voice shrill. 

Kurapika, having heard the sound of screams and awoken, started packing their things wordlessly. Neither Jean nor Armin noticed he was even awake yet, squabbling amongst themselves. 

Armin looked up at Jean with tears glazing his eyes, tone heart wrenchingly pained, “You’re so cruel! Armin this, Armin that! You have so much fun pointing out all the things I do wrong, and I’m tired of it! I’m not stupid! I’m not ugly, or dumb! I AM worthy of Kurapika!”

Until the last phrase Jean had been feeling guilty, but at the mention of Kurapika Jean released Armin’s hair and bent over, clutching his stomach and laughing.

“Worthy of Kurapika? Don’t make me LAUGH!

Ah ha - ha ha - ha ha 

Think you’re so good just bc those idiots asked for your autograph - 

Don’t be daft! 

Think with your brain, bro, not your shaft!

Maybe when you learn how to wipe your ass

You’ll be taken seri-assssss-” Jean said through his laughter. The high priest in him felt bad, and he knew he was most likely taking out his frustration on Kurapika’s silence and the mystery Ballooney sender on Armin, but he couldn’t stop. Just Armin’s words and cries for pity were enough to infuriate him - Jean had spent hours upon hours upon weeks upon months teaching Armin proper hygiene for the sake of his own health - yeesh, he even POTTY TRAINED the boy, and that same boy had the audacity to act as if Jean was ‘cruel’? That he had ‘fun’ doing what he did? Jean didn’t ever remember laughing at Armin until now, and if he thought Jean had been laughing at him up until now anyway, who even gave a damn? 

“Let’s go.”

Jean turned around, wiping at one of his tears, to see Kurapika with her bag slung over her shoulder. The cardboard box they’d been using for shelter had already been packed away, and though it twas nearing the early hours of the morning the sky was still dark. The sun was yet to rise. Even in the darkness Jean could tell Kurapika lacked her usual vibrancy, something that had been depleting since the balloon-note arrived. Lack of sleep, stress - Kurapika had also been too absent-minded to eat, constantly staring into the distance when food was put before her, or perhaps looking at Armin with a wrinkle of confusion on her brow. She’d claim he wasn’t hungry and give the food to Armin, who was all too stupid t reject it and encourage Kurapuka to eat a little more.

“Kurapika…” Jean said gently, “Let’s sleep a little longer.” He tried to reach for Kurapika’s hand but she shifted it out of the way before their fingers touched. 

Jean felt sick, stomach souring, as he lowered his hand. 

“We don’t have the time. We can sleep when we get there.”

“What’s the rush?” Jean asked patiently, a soothing note to his voice, “Please help us understand. Up until now we’ve given in to your every whim without question, followed you…” 

Kurapika adjusted his grip on his bag, making his intention obvious. 

“It would be nice if you listened to us.” Jean was severely worried about his fair maiden. He didn’t know what to do! She looked so stressed and harried all the time, she hadn’t been eating, she’d lost weight - where were her boobs! That couldn’t be healthy for her, Jean couldn’t imagine the stress her body was under. He’d prayed to Lord Marco for guidance, but all the deity said was to ‘erect more toi-tois’ which would resolve ‘all worldly conflicts.’ Jean would never question his deity, he KNEW the power of the toi-toi could resolve anything - ANYTHING (particularly since it was moulded by Lord Marco’s hands), but he needed a quick answer, not something that would take potentially years in the making! 

“If you need a break, take it. I’m going. Come on, Armin.” Kurapika turned away, his blonde hair fluttering in the cool wind of the early morning. It had taken weeks for the shit-stain to come out, but Kurapika invested in some expensive hair treatments and he’d never looked better.

Jean’s heart broke. He stood stock still as Kurapika walked off, Armin making an L sign with his index finger and thumbs, flicking them off to Jean as he smirked and followed behind Kurapika. 

-

Ballooney stared up at the sky, deflated. His body was a flat pancake melding into the earth, face stuck eternally toward the heavens. His vision was encumbered by grey rain cloud, droplets trickling over his naked form, blurring his vision even moreso than his tears. The pebbles were uncomfortable against Ballooney’s thin rubber back, though without Armin he had no way of moving into a more comfortable position.

Armin was not in any way remarkable. Rather, he was the least interesting-to-look-at human Ballooney may have ever encountered - although admittedly the list was not long. Ballooney would not have noticed him next to those other two. Wallowing in his overwhelming grief, Ballooney would not have noticed much in general that night. Armin stood with the cruel woman (?) that had so callously taken so much from Ballooney, as if it were nothing. The coldness that had radiated from that evil human sent shivers all down Ballooney’s rubber being. Armin had taken care of Ballooney though. When Ballooney had been left gasping, struggling for life, he had reached out. Tenderly, he had stroked Ballooney’s skin, sending electricity coursing through the balloon’s insulating surface. He had whispered beautiful words into Ballooney’s ears, made sweet promises, offered Ballooney the world and more. With only his expert fingers, he had shown Ballooney endless possibilities, a hope for the future, and a reason to live. Later in the night, he had made stars shine in Ballooney’s dark world by holding him gently and gayzing into his eyes. Could he see Ballooney’s sorrow? See all the suffering? It seemed like he did. In a way no one else ever had. As soon as life was bestowed onto Ballooney, he knew his existence would not be a long one. But none of that mattered to him, the boy, the man, his protector...his lover. Ballooney smiled up at Armin, a smile of newfound hope, brought into his life only by his yellow-haired saviour. Ballooney found itself staring up shyly. Could Armin see that Ballooney was chaste in the ways of physical love, that this was all new to the balloon? He whispered that he would stop if Ballooney asked him to, his breath sending palpitations to the balloon’s deflated core. “Don’t stop,” Ballooney begged. 

And then in a beautiful moment of bliss, his lips met Ballooney’s. The passion, the raw sensuality, the longing, all this and more was reflected in the way his eager lips moved against the balloon’s. Somehow, he was as hungry for Ballooney as Ballooney was for him. The sweet, carnal pressure of his lips feverhenly moving against Ballooney’s, his acrid waste-disposal breath, his meek smile. Ballooney would remember it all. And then in just another moment, it was over. He had left. With a ruthless indifference, he had thrown away everything Ballooney had come to covet. The home that they had built together had been discarded as if it meant absolutely nothing - and perhaps to a famous rapper, it did mean nothing. The life they could have had. The love they could have shared. Ballooney thought about that fleeting love, how it could mean so much to one person, but be so dispensable to the other. Was it too soon that Ballooney had already started fantasising about the faces of their children, part-balloon part-human, born from the love and tenderness that Armin and Ballooney shared? While Ballooney grieved, he could not be angry. Maybe this was all a balloon could hope for. In any case, rather than despair for a lifetime of intimacy that had been lost, perhaps he should be grateful for the single night of intimacy Lord Marco had graciously allowed him to experience. 

-

Jean stared up at the sky, neck craned backward, hands on his calves. He’d sat in the same spot he and Kurapika had spent their final night together, waiting for when she’d realise the mistake she made and turn back for him. Ballooney sat beside him, staring up with innocent wide eyes, flickering his lashes, wishing he was only sentient enough to comfort the poor boi. He knew what it felt like to be abandoned by a gorgeous, radiant, beautiful blonde-haired mans. Those blonde twins were so cruel!

If Ballooney was capable, alas if only he had arms! He’d cradle Jean to his latex chest, hold his head in his cleavage, run his fingers over Jean’s hair and pat his back as if burping a baby. He’d carry Jean anywhere, lessen his load, take on all of his weight using his helium. Oh, how he desired to protect the young priest! Ballooney felt sullied beside him, dirty, discarded by his Armin-kun, but still...maybe he would be able to make SOMEONE feel better?? Maybe he’d be useful, maybe his pain was worth it as he was now able to understand the pain the young priest was going though?? He’d be whatever the priest needed him to be! Whether that was a rock, a balloon, a friend...perhaps Ballooney was ready to open his heart again. It had been long enough.

Jean sat staring up at the sky, with no clue of Ballooney’s sentience (the silly sausage!). He knew his fair maiden, her spark and fire were one of the main things that attracted him. In actuality, everything about her attracted him. If Jean hadn’t promised his virginity to Lord Marco he’d have pounded Kurapika’s lithe frame to oblivion long ago. His unbridled desire for her...he couldn’t think of standing beside anyone else. Her beauty, radiance, charm...her power, strength, intelligence. She was all Jean wanted in himself, she was everything Jean never thought he could have in his partner. And how she’d sleep so sweetly using his arm as a pillow, their heads inches away...Jean had never felt so lucky until that moment, until the fair Kurapika had allowed herself to be vulnerable before him. She was such a beautiful young woman, wonderful…

Jean only wanted what was best for her. But...he missed her closeness, her masculine scent, the way her forehead crinkled when she glared. 

He waited. He sat in the same spot until the sun came down again, and only at dawn the next day did he move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've kept you guys waiting for this one, hope it was worth it with this lemon content - an x rated kiss - just for you guys xx  
> Also comment and kudos pls xxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
